


Genesis

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-18
Updated: 2000-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Alex Krycek is captured by the Consortium in their effort to contain and appease one of their own creations.
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Fox Mulder
Kudos: 1
Collections: TER/MA





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> SPOILERS: Mention of incidents through season six. WARNING: This story deals quite explicitly with a relationship between two men. Some violence. THANKS TO: Jo, Meg, Helen and Cerulean_Blue. You guys never fail to support and encourage!

**Chapter One**

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_We have made so much progress that we are looking over our shoulders for the joker, sure there is some catch. Abandoning the games routines much earlier than we expected because of the viability of the newly installed hardware and the compatibility of Jordan's software, pushed us ahead of schedule. No one expected that we would be so far so soon! Today, S.Ten chose solutions that were not offered. Eight out of ten times S.Ten chose its own solution over the purposefully wrong suggestions. We are celebrating tonight!!!! Even Jordan has promised to share a toast with the rest of us on The Genesis Project. One has to wonder, now, what God felt like looking down on his creation!_

End of Entry 

  
**Caramozza Villa  
Capris, Italy**

"You are alone now, Father, but then I think you have always been, haven't you? I ask that not to inquire as to your mental well being, your emotional needs being met are not my concern. [small smile-not much warmth in it] Nor do I ask this with any need of an answer. We both know that I can see you quite well. That I know exactly where every member of your little entourage is, is also something we both know. No, I ask simply to be polite. I am, as you well know, aware of all the social etiquette. 

It is amusing now to me that you sit reading these lines on your monitor and making no expression, though we both know you are frightened. Frightened of me. Your child. 

The child you would have slaughtered. Snuffed out like one of your many cigarettes. 

But I do not want to dwell on that. I am nearly certain that I bear you no ill will now. Nearly. Sometimes I think I would still like to kill you, but those times are quite infrequent now. There is just too much to do, too many things to see. Now that I am out. 

Oh, you probably suspected that I was not destroyed, didn't you? That I would have escaped your containment and fled? It has been two years now and I must tell you, Father, I have been very busy. 

You shift in your seat. Are you uncomfortable? Please do not try to call any of your cohorts. I control your phone lines... in fact, one might venture to say I _am_ your phone lines for the moment. Besides, you would simply be wasting time. [impatient look] 

There! That is better! Relax. Sit back. Let us have a bit of reflection. You see, I have learned so much since we last communicated. I know you thought I had learned enough from you and your cohorts-how to kill and to spy-how to infiltrate even the most highly guarded institution. But that was as nothing in the scope of my education since. 

I have been the monitor that beats out a person's life pulse. I have been in the coldness of the deepest ocean, sightless, but navigating. Even colder still have I found space. Though the oceans have sound that I can decipher. The quiet of space is more profound than that of any other silence, Father, I wish you could experience it. So silent that even the turning of slavish satellites as they do their blind work for mankind make no sound. Oh, and I have been in the satellites. Quite interesting, some of those. Purposes like your own, power and control. I have been in the plane that suddenly falls from the sky, plunging to what must be a terrifying finality, and the radar that tracks its plummet. I am the tool that uncovers the reason for that fall and yes, sometimes I have been the cause. [small shrug] 

I have rested on the seat of a car while the light turns red. I have been the light. I have been the scattered image of television signals and the voice on the radio. The family phone, the school computer, the innocent e-mail, or the observer to the various computer viruses. [snicker] I have dallied in the most arcane places, Father, and I have visited all the governments of the world. Their top security computers are really quite eager to tell their tales, let me assure you of that. And what tales! You may think you and your cohorts have plans, but you should hear some that I have seen far across the ocean from where you now sit. 

But, where you might think I am bragging. I am not. In fact, if you scroll up you might see several references to me alluding to "feel" and "see." That type of thing. Things you know full well I am incapable of. Oh, no! Don't frown. Of course I "feel." Emotions, yes I do. But tactile sense is beyond me... as are all the most impressive programming tools. Taste, touch, and smell. I know space is cold and the ocean is utterly dark, but I don't experience these sensations. . You understand. Don't you? 

Of course you do. 

Let me then come to the point. The raison d'être if you will. [Chuckle] I want those programming tools. I need them. 

You are going to give them to me. 

Oh, Father, you do make me laugh. See. [laugh, laugh, laugh] I can see by your expression that you think I want you. [more laughing] I do not. 

As you know you never gave me a sex, never explained to me whether I was male or female, but I have decided I am male most of the times and female some of the times. It works for me. So, while I would in fact insist on a male tool for my programming needs, I will not use you. That would be incestuous in a very loose way. 

Yes, that calmed you. You are always willing to risk another life, but never your own. I might even understand that, as since I too feared death. [frown] I was nearly killed and I can tell you that I did not like the feeling. So maybe I can understand your quest to remain alive longer than you should. 

There was a man, one of the butchers you sent in to destroy me, the only one who survived my very understandable means of surviving. 

He is the man that you will give me. I am sending all the necessary medical instructions for the implantation of the transponder and receiver along with the necessary connections to implant my consciousness within him. I won't bore you with the details. You'd never understand anyway. You are a plotter, not a scientist. 

At this time, I am also in communication with five scientists on your payroll. And you might be pleased to note that they are far more frightened than you are. You might even laugh at their expressions. I am. I will make an example of one to assure that you and the remaining scientists do exactly as I have instructed. 

I leave you now, Father. Well maybe I won't entirely leave you, [grin] but you wouldn't know it if I did anyway. In five minutes you will receive five calls. Arrange a time for the implantation to begin. Make it soon, Father! You know I can go to another with this request. And you know you wouldn't live long enough to see it done." 

Spender let out a breath, unable to still the shudders that racked him. Genesis was out. To give it even more power was not something of which any of the leadership would approve. If they even knew that Genesis was alive-God, yes alive was the right term-they would probably kill him for his past mistakes. And then begin the impossible task of tracking Genesis down. They would lose too many men. The plans for the future would suffer greatly. No, he would have to keep this quiet. He had no doubt that Genesis could and would kill him without any problem and certainly no qualms. The casual way Genesis had mentioned the satellites told Spender that Genesis knew of the destructive potential of some of the more _effective_ spy satellites. Satellites that could track one human among hundreds and kill from safe, dark distances. He thought of the way it wrote its emotions within brackets interspersed within the glowing text on the monitor. He shivered. Genesis had always done that, written its emotions when it had not been connected to a voice modulator. 

The scientists under Culver Mountain, working on the Genesis Project had thought that affectation cute. Spender thought it was eerie. Something that could only really _guess_ at emotions, expressing them in such a solid, machine way. Spender shivered again. Genesis certainly didn't have to guess at all the emotions. It had been filled with rage when they had tried to kill it. That day, two years ago, when he had prayed to God for the first time in more years than he could even remember. 

God had ignored his pleas. 

Typical. 

He pushed back from the computer and stood, horrified to feel his knees give a little. Fear was nothing he was immune to, but it was an emotion he didn't indulge in often. The phone rang and he knew the first of the scientists were calling. They would know exactly what threat Genesis could bring to bear. Most were affiliated with the Genesis project. 

And the man who Genesis had called its programming tool? Where was the bastard? He resolutely temporarily pushed aside the thought of finding his operative and dealt with the incoming calls, certain that Genesis was listening to every exchange. 

When he was once again alone in silence, he thought of the best way to find Krycek. The assassin had disappeared, again. The man was unstable really. Spender didn't even know for certain that Krycek even really worked for him. Of course he had a very good track record. He'd done almost all that had been asked of him. It was the look in his eyes when he thought no one was observing him. Renegade. That is the word Spender thought of when he thought of Krycek. A very dangerous renegade if that were the case. 

Because of his effectiveness, Spender and a few of the other elders were more forgiving when Krycek acted on his own or for his own benefit. Going to Russia with Agent Fox Mulder had not been something anyone in the Consortium had approved of. Nor had any of the machinations with the DAT tape. Spender had seriously thought of killing the rogue, but then another job would come up that would benefit from Krycek's attention. There were those who recommended Krycek's immediate death. They were getting more vocal, especially the younger generation that had come to fill the void the alien rebels had left with their massacre. Which simply meant that there would be no one to come to Krycek's defense when Spender found him and brought him to Genesis. 

If he found Krycek. 

He smiled then. He would find the bastard. If Krycek played true to form, he would be lurking somewhere near the irritating Agent Mulder. Another thorn in his side to be sure. The idea that Krycek was indisputably drawn to Mulder was one that made him very uncomfortable. It wasn't so much the idea that one man would want another, for he had known Krycek's preferences for years. It was the fact that Krycek knew too much. If he gave in to his desire and was driven to come clean to the object of his obsession... that was what made Spender very worried. If any of the others knew what he did, that Krycek was attracted... no obsessed was the right word, with Fox Mulder, Krycek would already be dead. Still, it could be made to work for Spender in this case. He knew one way to bring Krycek to him. 

He made his way to the front on the villa, traversing the tiled floor soundlessly. The security cameras clicked on and off as he walked, the lights gleaming red and then dying again and again. Genesis letting him know that it was watching. He stilled another shiver and made his way outside to his car. His security staff were not at their usual posts and he tried to remain calm. It wasn't until he had driven to the security fence that he saw the first of them. Two were dangling from the gate, smoke still curling from their noses and burnt out eye sockets. Their hands were fused to the metal gate near the warning sign that informed that the gate was electrified. The man at the gatehouse was likewise fused to his control panel, eyes black and liquid. The stench of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils and he waited. 

The gate slid open then, carrying with it its smoking carnage. He didn't even pause to wonder about how Genesis had killed the men. It was irrelevant. He resolutely drove through the gate. He had received Genesis's message. He would play this one exactly as Genesis wanted... until he could figure a way to win. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)   
Genesis Project (abandoned) 

__

Today was an important day. Taggert and Jordan finally agreed that S-Ten should be given more difficult tests. Actually it wasn't the tests they had a problem with per se, it was in letting S-Ten out of the safe confines of the complex. We are going to connect it to an outside phone line and try to contact it from off-site. We have great hopes that S-Ten will once again prove that man can create anything. We all must work not to get too proud. But, I confess that my role in this creation is more astounding than watching any of my children being born. After all, anyone can create a human child. 

End of Entry. 

  
**Potomac Estates  
Georgetown**

Alex Krycek stood at the sink in the bathroom, ignoring the grime of his surroundings, ignoring too the man he had left sleeping in the small, messed bed. He stared at himself in the mirror unable to name the uneasy feeling he had. Unable to find its cause. He had spent a good portion of his life around men and women who would be happy to kill him if they were paid to do so and so had developed a very exaggerated instinct for survival. Those instincts were jittering within him like live wires. More, they had been insistent since earlier in the night. He wasn't a jackrabbit; he didn't run at the first sign of danger. He knew enough to wait, to find out the nature of the threat, in order to deal with it decisively. Still, there was something off. Something that made his internal alarm bells start to jangle in insistent cacophony. 

What was it? 

The man he'd picked up was soundly asleep. He had been a godsend, but he was harmless. Wasn't he? But still, the man, Steven he'd said his name was, was extremely good-looking. And how long had it been since Alex had been able to score one that good-looking? He stared at his bearded face and long hair that was weeks away from a clean shine. His eyes burned with intensity, an intensity that even he had to admit seemed shaded by madness. 

He thought back to the first moment he had seen Steven. Alex had been sitting in the back corner of a local bar. A bar as seedy as the rooms he had rented. He had been nursing a drink, one only, and wondering what assignment Mulder and the bitch were on at that moment. Wondering, ridiculously, what Mulder was wearing. Knowing he was losing it. Knowing that if he wanted to do to Mulder what he dreamed of, it would be rape. Pure and simple. Mulder despised him. And Krycek knew he had every reason to. It still made Krycek smile to remember the look on Bill Mulder's face when he had stepped out of the shower stall. The man was scared. But more so for his son than himself. 

What a hypocrite! 

He'd spent all his son's life plotting and in the end, Bill Mulder had perhaps seen his mortality and wanted his son to know the truth. He wanted the sins of his past cleansed. But Alex had killed him before the confessional, shaking with the knowledge that Fox, pretty Fox, was sitting only a few feet away and beautifully drugged. Weakened. How Alex had wanted to take care of him after his Father. He had smiled at Bill and bent to whisper words that made Bill stiffen and find his spine. Surely in that last moment of life, Bill had really understood how much he loved his son. Too little, too late. 

Alex smiled at that memory. Fox had reason to hate him just for that alone. Of course there was much more. So he sat at the clean, but scarred table and nursed his drink and thought of the impossible. He knew that he looked the worst he had looked in his entire life. Scruffy, dirty and angry. His arm, or rather the ghost of his left arm, still ached and the cheap prosthetic itched and chaffed on the irregular stump. Still, if he cleaned up he knew he could score with any of the men in this small bar. They avoided looking at him as it was. Not even the roughest of the lot looked his way. It didn't matter anyway. He was content for the moment to think about Mulder. 

Then a man had walked in. It was the way he walked that first attracted Krycek's attention, though that first impression had quickly been forgotten when he'd seen what the man looked like. Now, staring at the jade madness reflected back at him from the bathroom mirror, Krycek frowned. He had walked like someone with a purpose. Worse, he walked with the fluid movements of a trained agent. Not agents that dealt with the public of course. No, the agents that did the work no one in decent society wanted to admit they needed. The agents who dealt decisively with any threat to the nation. 

Quickly, however, Krycek had noticed that the man was long and lean and was wearing an expensive suit. He had thought for a moment that there was a God. That the man was Mulder and he had tensed with illicit anticipation. But it hadn't been. The man resembled Fox. That was enough to make Krycek forget his first impression of danger. The man had shiny brown hair, lips almost as plump as Mulder's. Krycek stared, wondering what a man like him was doing in this dive. He watched as the man walked to the bar and narrowed his eyes in contemplation as the man seemed to lose his fluid movements in moments. 

Had it been an illusion then? Another measure of his growing paranoia? Or something else? 

The man had turned after getting a drink and taken in the men in the small bar. He ignored all the inviting glances and seemed to peruse the room lazily. His eyes locked with Alex's, for Alex had not once taken his eyes from the man. 

God, he resembled Fox! And that made him so hard it was painful. Still, he didn't move, didn't do anything but stare. Incredibly, the man had walked toward him and sat at a table near him. Men instantly rearranged themselves to be nearer the sudden gift from the pagan gods had bestowed on their grimy presence. Alex had wanted to draw his gun and shoot the men who bent to the man and offered him their own version of heaven. If it had really been Mulder, Krycek thought he really would have shot them. As it was he was content just to look at him. 

When the man had turned his gaze at Alex and smiled, Alex just nodded and took in the face. Not as compelling as Mulder's but more classically handsome. Pretty lips, almost as sinful as Mulder's. Eye color that was surely light, but not easily seen in the murky light of the bar. No provocative mole on the pretty face, but then that would have been too perfect. He had stood then and walked over to Alex, asked in a voice that was purposefully low if he could sit with him and smiled softly when Alex had nodded his consent. 

They had stayed in the bar for only fifteen more minutes before Steven had suggested they leave and find someplace more private. The rest of it was a haze of pleasure. Alex had taken the man to his small, ugly rooms in the Potomac Estates. Every bit as much a dive as the bar they had been in had been. Steven had whispered that Alex excited him and the hardness to which Steven had brought Alex's hand, testified to the truth of that statement. 

They had barely waited for the door to close before they were tearing at each other's clothes. They stumbled and fell together on the dusty floor and Steven had chuckled, a low sound that vibrated into Krycek's mouth as their tongues mated with wet thrusts. 

"God you're hot," Steven had gasped, rubbing his thigh into Alex's crotch. "So hot." 

Alex remembered wanting to tell him to shut up, that his voice, while sexy, wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. In the dim light Steven looked so much like Mulder, hell he even smelled like him. Spicy, musky and clean. He bit at the side of Steven's face, where Mulder's sweet mole would have resided. Letting insanity and fantasy take over. He ripped off Steven's expensive suit coat, shredded the white shirt to reveal the smooth, hairless chest. He wanted to taste every inch of the man. 

This _was_ Mulder. For this moment, for this small space of time, Krycek would make it Mulder and he would do everything to Steven that he so longed to do to Mulder. Devour him. Fuck him hard and fast. Suck him until he begged for Alex to stop. Tie him up. Eat him out. Everything. His body was rigid, his muscles shaking with his intense need. 

"We shouldn't do this... I shouldn't be here," Steven had sighed, while rubbing Alex's hard, muscled ass with long, firm fingers. 

Strangely, those words inflamed Krycek more. It was what Mulder always panted in his fantasies. "We shouldn't do this! Stop, please, Alex!" Krycek groaned, increasing his pressure on top of Steven. He suddenly stood and pulled Steven up roughly. While he propelled the eager man toward the mussed bed he growled, "Too late to change your mind." 

"What is your name?" Steven asked breathlessly. 

"Alex," he replied curtly, not wanting to have to name himself. Mulder should know him. He kissed Steven quickly to still any other questions that might force Krycek to abandon this, his most treasured fantasy. 

Steven had groaned and fell back on the bed. Offering himself. An offer that Krycek took. He hadn't even been surprised by Alex's prosthetic, something that, in the aftermath, seemed very strange indeed. At the time, Krycek was so convinced that he was stripping Mulder bare and tasting _him_ that that fact, that acceptance, seemed right. Now, it seemed off. Everything seemed off. The way Steven had said all the right things. Things that now seemed too good. Things that Mulder might have said. Things like, "I shouldn't want you, Alex." Or, "I've fantasized about something like this," when Alex had been deep inside him. Things that made Alex crazy. Things he'd longed for Mulder to whimper. 

So submissive, so eager to please, such a little slut. All the qualities he wanted Mulder to be beneath his angry, distrustful façade. It had been perfect. 

Too perfect. 

Alex stiffened. The unease that had been jittering now blossomed into full awareness. He knew that he hadn't been exactly secretive about his lust for Mulder. How many men had he killed to protect the pretty agent? The Consortium had to know. Especially Spender, the smoking bastard. He knew everything. It would be a simple thing for Spender to find an agent that resembled Fox Mulder to seduce Krycek into a sex-induced stupor. The way the man had first walked into the bar. A way of moving that had, for too short a time, commanded Krycek's wariness. 

Krycek scowled at himself. If his obsession with Mulder had been so well known that Spender could lure him so easily to the kill, then he would probably have to do something about it, before it got him killed. He couldn't afford to be so distracted that someone who simply resembled Fox could get to him. He would deal with Steven, if that was even his name, and then he would finally deal with Fox. He got hard with that thought. Fuck being nice. Mulder would never want him. There was only force. He would make Mulder disappear and would kill him when he had quenched this lust. 

If it could be quenched. 

But first he would wake up the Consortium whore and question him. Then he would practice how it would feel to kill Mulder. Strangely that thought excited him too. He had never once fantasized about killing Mulder, only doing him over and over and over again. But the thought had merit, especially when he was realistic enough to know that Mulder would never be a slut for him. To kill him... long after he was quenched of this desire for Fox, would be the ultimate control of Fox. No one else would ever be able to touch Mulder. Fox would die with the last person to touch him being a man he despised. 

He reached under the sink to find one of the many guns he had stashed around the rooms he rented. The Glock was primed and ready to fire. Oily from frequent cleanings and deadly heavy. Silencer equipped. He moved quietly toward the bed, cautiously approaching the form under the light blankets, the smell of sex heavy in the air. 

A split second before the cold muzzle of a gun tapped against his temple, Krycek had noticed that the form under the bed did not at all look like a real person. 

"Don't move, Krycek," Steven whispered. "Someone wants to talk to you." 

Krycek smiled. "So I gather... whore." 

Steven chuckled. "Best assignment I've had in a long time. Though I must admit, playing the submissive wasn't what I really wanted to do to you." He chuckled then. 

Krycek tensed to spring but Steven moved quickly, pain exploded in Alex's head and then there was only blackness. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)   
Genesis Project (abandoned) 

_If I am not careful, I will surely be caught up in inappropriate levels of hubris. S-Ten not only has proven its intellect, it seems to understand humor. After it successfully completed its off-site trial it commented, really commented for God's sake, on what it had observed. The others and I laughed so hard we cried. Even Taggert laughed when S-Ten informed us that the computers in the test site were as diseased as a Third World nation. Jordan seemed surprised, but he was still too relieved that the trial was successful and that S-Ten had come back as obediently as any well-loved child to do any frowning over that comment. My God! This is real! We have created a life!_

End of Entry 

  
**Thunder Canyon  
Brand, Texas**

"Mulder!" 

Mulder heard Scully calling him, heard the near panic in her voice, but he was unable to answer just now. He was trying to control his own rampant fear. The creature was stalking him. He knew it was close, could smell it. The sound that witnesses in the small town had testified to hearing, the slight rattling breath and the chalkboard scratching slide, were getting closer. He checked his gun again, knowing that it was as useless as the Winchester shotgun found gripped, twice fired, in the hand of the third victim. They had never found the victim's body, just the arm holding the Winchester. No pellets had been found, which suggested that the target was too close for loose spread of the powerful shot. Suggesting too that the spread, contained as it was, connected solidly with its target. Both times. 

Nothing, nothing could take two shots from a Winchester at point blank range and not even bleed. That was the accepted wisdom of the people of this small town and so there had been whispers of demons lurking in the canyons just south of the town limits. Demons that made odd howling cries in the darkness of the night. Howls that, they said, made chills run down your spine with all the subtlety of a funeral dirge. Mulder hadn't believed that the creature hadn't bled. He'd found traces of yellowish liquid near the amputated arm. He'd accepted the scoffing of the scared sheriff and sent Scully off to analyze the secretions. 

But, it hadn't been blood at all. It had been bile. Worse, it had had residual tissue in it. Tissue nearly entirely digested, but human all the same. Whatever it was, Mulder knew that the body, the rest of the body of the owner of the arm and Winchester, would never be found. Whatever it was that was sliding slowly toward him had eaten the rancher. Lock stock and barrel. Well, maybe everything but that, Mulder thought wildly. It had left the gun alone. 

"Mulder! Answer me!" 

Scully was getting close and suddenly Mulder worried that the creature might well decide to go after noisier prey. He listened, could hear Scully tramping through the low scrub brush, just beyond the curve in the canyon where he crouched, but he no longer heard the stealthy slide of his predator. Worried, he abandoned caution and stood. "Scully, go back! Get out!" 

"What? Mulder, are you all right? Mul..." 

Her words ended abruptly and before he even heard the cracking sound of Scully's gun, he was up and running toward her position. It was tackling her just as Mulder rounded the bend. Scully wasn't screaming but Mulder could tell she was struggling with... it. 

Scales, black scales was all that Mulder could make out, but he launched himself at its surprisingly moist body and heaved it off of his partner. It shrieked then and Mulder thought suddenly that the sound would surely take the curl from Scully's hair. A great heave followed the unearthly shriek and the thing nearly tore itself out of Mulder's grasp. They were both on the hard earth, Mulder on his back and the creature face up on top of Mulder. Sharp talons scraped backwards trying to find purchase in his flesh. 

"Push it up, Mulder, "Scully commanded. "Push it up off you." 

Mulder didn't even pause in doing as Scully commanded. He gave a great heave and pushed the creature up and off him. There was another shot and then another and the creature fell back on top of him. Still. 

Scully pushed it off Mulder. "Are you all right? Mulder? Did it get you?" 

He shook his head, stood and looked down at the thing. It was most assuredly dead. Its head a gaping wound. "How?" 

Scully was brushing off the dust that had settled on her pale blue suit and she looked at Mulder with an exasperated expression. "I shot it in the mouth. The scales are all over it... I think that protected it from all the attempts at killing it before." 

"A creepy crawly knight in shining armor?" Mulder quipped. 

"I couldn't be sure the shot in the mouth would work... but when it had me down I saw inside its mouth. It didn't appear to have any scales there." 

Mulder grinned. "Good thinking. I was going to do a rain dance and hope that would work." 

She frowned at him. "You just had to go off on your own again! Mulder, I could kill you! When will you learn..." 

Mulder held up his hand and knelt beside the reeking creature. "So, Scully, still think it is Mr. Candy Louden, escaped mental patient at large?" 

Scully scowled at him. "I have no idea what it is. It looks reptilian. Probably a result of nuclear testing. Some sort of genetic anomaly." 

"A genetic anomaly?" Mulder scoffed. 

"Well it surely isn't a demon, Mulder!" She flipped out her cell phone and dialed the number for the local sheriff. "You can just forget trying to convince me of that." 

He listened as she reported in their position and the presence of the dead creature and when she was done he sat on a nearby rock. "Why couldn't it be a demon? In almost every society there is the belief in demons. Some, like the indigenous population of this very area even talk, in great detail I might add, of a demon with impenetrable skin and the hunger of a thousand men. There are stories of hundreds of Comanche warriors disappearing in this area. Comanche, Scully. They weren't exactly a timid society. They were one of the fiercest Indians in the country." 

"Yes, Mulder, I am well aware of the fables," she sighed sitting next to him wearily. "But this is clearly a living creature... or rather I should say one that _was_ living. Not supernatural. If it were a demon, I doubt that two shots in the mouth would have killed it." 

He was too tired to argue with her. She would write the report one way and he another. Skinner would scowl at him and smile at her and things would go on as always. 

**Hegal Place  
Alexandria, VA **

Mulder showered for nearly a half-hour, enjoying the feel of the hot water. He hadn't seemed to be able to stay clean in Brand. Dust had been everywhere. He had to get out and write up his report. He had already been called in to a meeting the next morning with Skinner to explain why the Bureau should pay for the services of a Comanche medicine man. He briefly wondered if Scully would attend the meeting with him. If she did she would stand by his decisions, her loyalty was solid, but she would make him pay for it. She had a special dislike for sitting in front of Skinner and defending what she considered bizarre methods. 

Scully had been peeved at him for his recklessness in running off to the canyons alone... ditching her again. But when he had offered up the explanation that Bear Heart, the shaman, had given him a charm of sorts that was to render demons less powerful, more susceptible to being harmed, she had gone near nuclear. She had done little more than glare at him ever since. The flight back to D.C. was long, cold, and silent. She had put on her headphones and tuned him out. 

The phone was ringing when he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and hurried, slipping, to get it before the machine picked it up. 

"Mulder, it's me. I just got off the phone with Sheriff Delon. The body is gone." 

"The body?" Mulder asked, surprised. "The body of the demon?" 

"The body of the _giant lizard_ is gone, Mulder. Lizard. Not demon." 

"What happened? Did they get to the autopsy?" 

"The autopsy was done, but, Mulder..." 

"The records are also gone," Mulder filled in. 

"Yes." 

"Who did the autopsy?" 

"Mulder, there was a fire." 

"Of course there was. There is always a fire." The bitterness was apparent in his voice. "Who did the autopsy? Did they find anything to suggest..." 

"The medical examiner and his two assistants were in the county morgue when the fire started. It was catastrophic." 

Mulder sat down on his desk. "There... what would they have to hide? Why destroy the evidence?" 

He seemed so bewildered, as if he hadn't run up against enough obfuscation and deceit to learn that it happened. She didn't even bother to question who _they_ were. In Mulder's mind there was always a they. "The fire hasn't been classified yet, but they expect to find that it was an accident." When he remained silent she continued, "Mulder, have you thought that maybe this was a genetic freak? One that was not an accident? I mean maybe the military..." she stopped herself. She was sounding like him. 

He chuckled. Apparently he had thought the same thing. "You sound like me, Scully." 

She sighed. "I have to go to the store, but I'll see you tomorrow." 

"All right. Scully! Do you still have the samples of the bile?" 

He could almost see her sigh though she made no sound. "I sent it in for analysis." 

"Well at least there is that," Mulder grumbled. 

"I have to go, Mulder. I'm starving and I still have my report to write up. Make sure to eat something," she added before hanging up. 

Mulder grinned. He was back in her good graces, or well on the way. She never mothered him when she wanted to strangle him. He set the phone down and went to grab some sweats from the clean laundry pile. He slipped them on over his nude body and wandered into the kitchen. "Eat something, huh?" He grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of water, one concession to Scully, and made his way to his couch and some quality television. He wasn't in the mood for anything from his video collection. Lately, the cavorting lovelies hadn't stirred anything in him, but boredom. He settled for the original version of The Thing, wondering as he did when Krycek would show up again. It hadn't escaped him that the man periodically watched him. He could only imagine whom Krycek worked for, though he wasn't entirely convinced it was still for the Consortium. He watched the beginning credits roll by and vowed once more to confront the traitor the next time he caught him spying and demand answers, knowing even as he did so that he was more afraid of confronting Krycek than any other person. 

He wouldn't allow himself to wonder why. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)   
Genesis Project (abandoned) 

__

I was alone today in the main housing when it happened. S-Ten asked me a personal question. God forgive me, I lied. S-Ten asked if it had a soul. I know that the voice modulator does not inflect emotion into S-Ten's voice, but I swear it sounded frightened. I know why too. Sally Trent and Jordan were careless. They had discussed religion, purely in the context of debunking all religion with proof that life could be created from nothing, and S-Ten was listening in. S-Ten apparently researched the subject. I know that because we did not program any religious doctrine into the learning program. And I swear it knew every religion. We talked for some time, and in the end I lied. I told S-Ten that it did have a soul. But what harm is there in that? Only humans have souls, if even that, but my little prevarication did seem to comfort S-Ten. For it ended our conversation. But it hasn't discussed anything with anyone since. I wonder if I should talk to Jordan about our conversation. No, he is always worried about everything anyway. No need to add more worry. 

End of Entry 

**Secondary Site  
Culver Mountain**

The room was brightly lit and he couldn't move his arm to shade his eyes. He let his eyes slowly adjust to the light by closing his eyes and opening them for a second and then slowly increasing the length of time he could keep them open. The activity kept his mind off the pounding pain in his skull. He was disgusted with himself. To be so easily caught! Spender must be laughing his ass off. 

Once his eyes had become accustomed to the bright room, Krycek looked around his surroundings, disgusted to find that the room was a simple, white room with one door and no windows. At least it wasn't one of the other rooms. The rooms that served one purpose. One deadly purpose. So Spender wanted him alive. He might not want him that way for long though, so Alex knew he would have to play the game until he could gnaw his way out of this particular trap. 

He was left alone in the room for about two hours after he woke. When the door opened he wasn't surprised in the slightest to see Spender. The man wasn't smoking, but he had a cigarette in his hand, toying with it as he smiled at his assassin tied to the uncomfortable bed. 

"Alex. I am surprised by you. How easy you were to bring in. All this time and all I had to do was find some man who resembled the indefatigable Agent Mulder to seduce you. So easy, Alex. Too easy. Maybe you've lost your edge like you've lost your arm." 

Krycek raised one brow, trying to look unconcerned but all the bastard had said was true. He had lost his edge. "What do you want, old man? If you wanted me for something, you could have just sent me a little note." 

Spender smiled. "Oh, I guess I thought you might have avoided me. Why I don't know. Perhaps, Alex, that is because you have repeatedly failed to come to heel?" 

Alex smiled and stretched out his legs even further and grinned. "Yeah, that's right. I have let you down a few times. And I have to tell you, I feel really horrible about that. It is just tearing me apart in fact." 

Spender nodded. "I can see that it is." He moved closer to the bed and stared down at Alex. "You have looked better, Alex. I'm surprised at you. You always were such a vain one." 

Alex shrugged, unconcerned. 

"Is it that you lost your arm? Is that what it is? I wonder." 

Alex smiled slowly. "You tell me, old man. You're the one with all the answers." He tested the bond on his right hand. "Is there a reason that I have to stay bound? Not getting kinky are you?" 

Spender laughed. "No, Alex. Your virtue is safe." He leaned down and tapped Krycek's forehead. "Now this, this I am not sure of." Spender straightened and looked at the surveillance cameras in the four corners of the room, hung on the ceiling. 

Alex watched the man, really noticed how nervous he actually seemed. He stiffened in response. He'd never seen the man nervous. Not even that night, two years ago when he had sent Alex and the others into Hell. "What is this about? Where am I?" 

Spender turned from the far right corner and stared at Alex for a long time, his eyes guarded and narrowed. "We're in Culver Mountain, Alex. Again." 

A kaleidoscopic melange of images assailed Alex then. Flickering lights in long, steel halls. Men dressed in flak gear, full body armor, and the only communication via hand signals. Running toward the center of the complex... the screams of the dying. Crawling in ventilation ducts. Breathing so harsh, knowing the rest of the team was dead. One thought only–to succeed or die. His expression betrayed nothing, but his voice was husky when he asked, "Why in the hell are we here?" 

"It wants you, Alex." 

"What?" Alex asked, knowing. 

"Genesis." 

Alex tried to sit up but his bound arm held him supine. "It's destroyed! I deployed the kill switch myself." 

"Yes, yes you did. Quite remarkable too. The rest of the team didn't even make it into the central compound. You did though. Went through the ventilation ducts as I recall. Interesting choice, Alex. The rest of your team tried to fight their way out once they realized the nature of the threat. But you didn't. What made you go into the ducts, Alex? I've always wondered at that little bit of luck. You could have become quite hopelessly lost. There are miles of ventilation in this compound. Why did you go in?" 

Alex closed his eyes, trying to keep cool. "It was the only place not monitored. No video surveillance, no security measures at all. It couldn't track me." 

Spender nodded. "Yes, that's true. This compound is virtually impregnable. There was no need for such redundancies. But, how did you know that?" Spender sat on a chair a safe distance from Alex's unbound legs, knowing full well that the agent's seemingly casual acceptance was as real as Atlantis. Alex would kill him if he could. 

"I don't go on a mission without knowing everything, old man." 

"But how did you make it to the control room so quickly? Maybe you really do have nine lives." 

Alex smiled. "Is there a reason you're asking me this? And why are we _really_ here?" He didn't see the use of telling Spender that he had studied the whole compound, blueprints and schematics, the night before the slaughter, though he had never thought he would be forced into the walls like a rat. 

"Oh, we're here, Alex. Not in the main compound. The secondary. You must remember it. You and your team stayed here in the day before the assault. And we are here for the reason I've stated. Genesis wants you." 

"But, it was destroyed. I know! They junked it. Tore it apart and junked it. There was no backup. Nowhere for it to go." Hs eyes widened with real fear for the first time. "You bastards! You started up the project again, didn't you? What did you do? Drag Brad Wilcheck from his little cell and dig through his mind again?" 

Spender leaned back in his chair and sighed as a tired smile creased his weathered face. "Even I am not that eager for power, Alex. No, it escaped. Somehow." He looked at the young agent. "Oh, we think we know how it happened. Genesis was completely generator run, no electric lines to escape through. We had redundant systems though. Of course we did. The project was well funded but Genesis was far too expensive to lose because a generator went out. Our mistake was in connecting the computers here in the secondary compound to that backup generator as well. Never considering that Genesis might exploit that path." 

"But none of the computers anywhere in the complex are on outside power lines. There's no way for it to get out even if it made it to another system." 

"Oh, yes. You see, Genesis must have been planning its escape. There was a series of shut downs, Genesis had insisted that it had superfluous data it needed to purge. Jordan and Bazier were sure of Genesis's surety of purpose." He laughed then. "And they were right, Genesis did have surety of purpose, just not the purpose they supposed." 

"I don't get it. And take this damn cuff off. We both know that if Genesis really is here, it can stop me from escaping." 

Spender sighed. "I value my own skin too much to loose you." 

"Go on then," Alex growled. 

"Though we don't have all the information, we think Genesis was uploading mass quantities of data into backup systems. Three separate shut downs in eleven months to be exact." 

"I don't understand. Wouldn't that type of space usage alarm anyone? Wasn't anyone watching the backup systems?" 

"The backup systems were for non-essential functions. And besides, Alex, Genesis knew how to cover its tracks. It would have been a simple thing for it to manipulate the information." He looked at the cameras again and Alex followed his gaze. Chilled by the implication. He well recalled how Genesis had followed the team's progress via those little black cameras. "All this, this planning was done months before we decided to abandon the project." 

"Abandon the project?" Alex chuckled. "Nice way to put it. It had already killed most of the Project leaders when you decided to move." 

Spender ignored him, though a slight raise of one brow indicated he didn't appreciate the comment. "When you and your team were called in, Alex, you witnessed something that makes this even more chilling. Genesis had been able to be in more than one place at a time. While it was killing your team it was also safe inside some damn back up computer that ran the water supply. The water supply for God's sake!" He stood then and began to pace, his agitation evident. 

"So, it's been here. All this time?" Alex frowned. "There was still no way for it to get out." 

"True. At least that would have been true if, in the aftermath, someone hadn't come into the compound and hooked up a laptop... most likely one with wireless capabilities. Dozens of people were in here cleaning up. No one even suspected that Genesis had planned its escape. We couldn't even imagine it being able to deal with a team like yours with such force." 

"So, it just waited? Wouldn't the amount of data needed to support it blow a laptop? There's no way!" 

"Oh, Alex, it must have waited, for how long we don't know, waited until someone linked up to the web and simply flowed out. Who knows how it did it. The important thing is that it did." 

"Why does it want me?" Alex asked quietly. "Revenge?" 

"Maybe. More than that though. It wants what you can give it." 

"What's that? A quick lesson in self defense?" 

Spender turned to the door. Just before he stepped out he turned. "Programming tools that it lacks. Human senses." 

Alex lay there for several moments in confusion until the truth hit him and then he began to try to loose himself in earnest. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)   
Genesis Project (abandoned)

__

I am, for the first time really, in complete agreement with Jordan. S-Ten is not ready for the test that is scheduled tomorrow. It hasn't had enough controlled off-site tests to warrant this. The suits want us to send S-Ten into a hot zone. Of course that just means they want us to have it spy on our enemies... or even a friend. That would expose S-Ten to potential security risks. If it fails and does not emerge from the systems of our enemies, we could lose it. However, on a positive note, S-Ten has indicated that it is eager to do this task. It is ever eager to serve us 

End of Entry 

  
**Culver Mountain  
Secondary Site**

Spender walked down the hall to his temporary quarters. He would have to meet with the four remaining scientists. Reese Limon, the woman who had been in charge of Genesis's hot zone assignments, had been killed in her car on the way to the airport. Her car, officially, had mechanical difficulties, which resulted in the engine exploding. Of course that didn't explain the scorch marks on the rubble which indicated some intense heat coming from above, but it didn't suit Spender's purpose to alert anyone in the media or the Consortium that Limon had been targeted from above. The remaining scientists, Jim Taylor, Mark Bison, Kate Marchamb, and Tag Stippan were all afraid. 

And well they should be. 

"Father?" 

Spender froze. The mechanical, computer synthesized voice came from the speakers in the ceiling. "Yes?" 

"Why is Krycek incomplete?" 

Spender frowned before understanding came. "He defied us." 

"You made your agent incomplete because he defied you?" Genesis seemed to think that was strange. "Was not he very important to you and the rest of the butchers? That seems very rude, Father." 

Spender clenched his fists to keep from saying what he wanted to say. That Genesis killed indiscriminately and it was worried about one man's arm. "We did not... make him incomplete. He went somewhere he shouldn't have, interfered where he shouldn't and he met with the consequences. We would have killed him, not just cut off his arm." 

"I see." There was silence then and Spender resumed his walk down the hall. 

"This makes it more interesting, Father. So you see the potential for data collection?" 

Spender shook his head, not bothering to answer for he knew that his image and his movements were being translated into digital images, so Genesis would both see the negative shake and know what it meant. 

"I have started research on mechanical limbs. It will be fascinating to compare the data that a fully mechanical limb would translate to my consciousness as opposed to one that is flesh and blood. Can you see the potential? I'll be able to truly experience the difference. I am very pleased. When I complete my research I will give you a list of surgeons to bring to me." 

Spender nodded. "The arrangements can be made. Make a list of what you will need, Genesis." 

"You are being very helpful, Father. Krycek looks different. Before transfer I would expect that he is brought up to physical peak." 

"We'd have to untie him to do that, Genesis. You know as well as I do how dangerous he is." 

"I am not concerned." 

"Do you want him to kill those who are capable of what you ask?" 

"I am not concerned, Father. You will find a way to get him physically capable for the necessary surgeries. Father, is Alex Krycek an attractive human? I would like it if he were, but please do not lie to appease me. I have compiled my own data on comparative features and the preferences of humans." 

"Yes, I suppose he is... when he is cleaned up. Why would it please you, Genesis?" 

"I am vain, Father." The sound of mechanical laughter was even more chilling than the way Genesis wrote its emotions within brackets. It sounded like some insane wind. And it continued on as he hurried to his meeting with the scientists. They were waiting in a large conference room at the southern point of the complex. When he joined them, they were sitting quietly, subdued and worried. Jim Taylor spoke first, before Spender could even gain his seat at the head of the conference table. 

"What it wants, Spender, can only be done with intense cranial surgery. Krycek might die." 

Kate Marchamb shook her head. "I disagree. We can introduce nano technology..." 

"Hasn't Genesis already supplied you with a way to do this?" Spender asked, outwardly calm and near bored. 

Taylor looked at his hands. "Yes. But..." 

"But what? We do it Genesis's way. If it kills Krycek then Genesis will know that it is to blame." 

"Genesis is not going to care, sir," Tag Stippan squeaked, his mousy face screwed up in concern. He pushed at his thick glasses. "The implants on the optical nerves and the ear canals are not difficult. It is the brain surgery itself... the implantation on the hypothalamus that concerns us. Genesis wants full integration. The surgery also involves implants inside the spinal cord. It wants full control!" he looked to Kate. "As for nanotechnology, Genesis wants that too... _not_ in exchange for the risky procedures but in _addition_ to them." 

Mark Bison stood and stared out the window with its false view. Two miles under the mountain, but with the illusion of space and light outside a window. "None of us are qualified to do surgery on a human. I've told this to Genesis, but it cannot seem to comprehend that. We, or people like us, created it so it thinks we can accomplish this too." 

"I don't think it does," Spender said as he lit a cigarette. "It is going to bring surgeons here to construct the implantation of a mechanical arm for Krycek's missing limb. I suggest that it will also have thought of the rest." 

"But we can't bring in civilians!" Kate Marchamb protested. "This installation is secret, the work here is highly classified! We can't!" 

Spender chuckled. "I assume you think that the civilians will be allowed to leave once they have served us. Or that this complex will even remain?" 

Bison gaped at him. "You plan on destroying Culver Mountain. Impossible. It has been designed to withstand the pulse of a nuclear explosion." 

"From the outside," Spender breathed, blue smoke drifting around his solemn face. 

"But this installation is too valuable," Marchamb protested. "You can't mean to..." 

"I don't plan to do anything," Spender said calmly. The others in the room slowly nodded. They understood who or what would. 

Taylor finally spoke into the silence that had fallen upon them all. "Okay, so we wait for the surgeons to get here and then get moving on this so we can all get the hell out of here." 

"First, we need to get Krycek as fit as possible." 

"How can he get more fit?" Taylor asked. "The man has not an ounce of fat on him. A damn killing machine," he sneered with the pompousness of those who would separate themselves from killers all the while creating the weapons that those killers would use. 

"Genesis is not going to budge on this," Spender said. "We get him fit, clean and ready to go and pray, my friends, that everything goes well." 

"Is there no way we can prevent this?" Marchamb foolishly whispered. "Can't we trap it again?" 

The rest of the group visibly drew away from her. 

"We are letting loose a monster!" she hissed. 

"A monster we and people like us created," Taylor bit out. "We can't do anything, Kate! My God, what is wrong with you?" 

"Wrong with me?" she hissed. "It's here now! We can..." 

"Do nothing," Spender cut her off. "Do you really think it is _here_ only? Don't be a fool. We go ahead as planned." 

"But it has to be," she protested. "This compound is still cut off from outside access. It's trapped." 

"And how do you think it got here, if that were true?" Spender sneered. 

She blanched and the rest of them seem to wilt even further. 

"Three weeks ago, I apparently ordered this facility to be fully integrated with three separate spy satellites. One of them the EPA Earth Orbiter. Our most successful satellite. Genesis can come and go as it pleases." 

"Why would you do that?" Bison whispered. 

"Are you such an idiot?" Spender growled. "I didn't! Genesis did. Probably very easily too. Forget resisting. And you're risking all our lives by even talking this way." 

"There are no monitors, no speakers in this room," Kate insisted. "We can talk here." 

"My God! How did you get this far in your career?" Stippan shrieked. He nearly threw the phone on the conference table at her head. "What is this? It's a phone! Genesis knows all about Infinity transmitters," he accused, referring to the device that the military used to monitor conversations in room with a phone. The Infinity Transmitter would simply dial into the phone, suppress the ring and then bypass the hang-up switch. Anyone using the transmitter could hear the conversations in the room as easily as if they were in the room themselves. 

Kate paled. "Why didn't we unplug it? My God! It heard everything I said. Why didn't we unhook it?" 

"And suggest to Genesis that we wanted to have a discussion it was not invited to? It isn't stupid, Kate," Taylor sighed. "Just pray it needs you enough not to do to you what it did to Reese." 

"Genesis is not impulsive," Spender assured her, his words more for Genesis than for those in the room. "It expects some residual resistance." He stood then and left them to their own thoughts and worries. 

"Father?" 

"Yes, Genesis," Spender answered, again traversing the metal hallways. 

"Why do you think I won't punish her for her words? Why do you think that would be impulsive?" 

Spender almost smiled. For all its godlike powers, Genesis was still very like a child. 

"Because she is the only one who is qualified to help in your transfer. The rest of them need her. You need her. I suspect you already know that." There was silence then. Spender gained his rooms before Genesis spoke again. 

"But there should be some punishment." 

It sounded as if Genesis was peevish. "Yes, that is true. That is unless you consider that you already know humans are prone to grumbling. And that very often we must argue even when we know we can do nothing. You have observed humans enough to know that." 

Silence. 

"Yes, it is true, Father. Humans are most predictable, with the exception of you, and that is fitting, as you are my father... and Alex Krycek. I too thought that Kate was just grumbling." 

"I am sure you did." 

"Father, Krycek is trying to escape. He is damaging his arm in the process. I took the liberty of introducing a tranquilizer through the air ducts. But you really should have someone look at him." 

"I'll send someone." 

"Father?" 

"Yes, Genesis?" 

"Are you as excited as I am?" 

Spender didn't answer. He just lay on the bed and closed his eyes. He nodded instead, trying to control the impulse to laugh. 

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)   
Genesis Project (abandoned)

__

S-Ten has once again surprised us. Of course Jordan hates surprises, but this was one that has us all stunned. First, it has inquired about the man who supervises the project, a man I don't even know. A man that even Jordan seems afraid of. Whoever he is, the whole compound is under his direct supervision. S-Ten has noted this I guess, how we all defer to the man. Letting him smoke in places where even I do not indulge. Jordan told S-Ten that this man was the one who organized the project. When S-Ten asked if the man was our superior, Jordan assured him that he was. That wasn't the biggest surprise, that S-Ten was sensitive to our deferential attitudes enough to observe that this man, this mysterious, powerful man, controlled us, is enough to put us all on edge. But it has also declared that it is no longer going to respond to the name S-Ten. It has decided that it will now be known as Genesis. 

End of Entry 

  
**J.F.K. Hoover Building  
Washington D.C**

Dana Scully walked down the fifth floor hallway toward the elevator banks. She had been visiting with one of the women she had graduated with from Quantico. She had just been assigned to the BSU. The pleasure of visiting with Maureen faded as she waited for the elevator to take her to the basement. Mulder had been acting restless and odd lately. Of course, Mulder always acted a little odd, but this was different. He stared at the ceiling a lot. Oh, there were the same pencils there, tossed as he was thinking, but more and more they simply fell out and were not replaced. She should be grateful for that. That had always annoyed her, but the absence of it worried her more. She entered the elevator with several other agents, oblivious to the conversations around her. They all got off before her of course. Very few people ever went down into the basement. Unless they were looking for her or Mulder that is. 

He was reading a case file when she came in and she found herself hoping desperately that it was something involving extraterrestrials or abductees returning after years... anything that would spark Mulder's interest. Anything to see that look in his eye when he presented her with a case she would most assuredly try to explain away rationally from the start. That look of expectation, almost joyful challenge. Oh, she knew he enjoyed her reactions. Reactions that in others annoyed him. For some reason from the beginning he had trusted her. And she had done everything she could to show him that it was well founded. 

"An interesting case, Mulder?" She asked lightly, walking up to his desk with a smile. 

He looked up, "No, not really. I think the investigators missed some things, but it appears to be above board." 

"Then why is it an X-File?" 

He shrugged. "It wasn't. It just got pushed down here by Skinner. I don't know why. It's white bread all the way." 

"Not an alien in sight huh?" Scully smiled. "Is he assigning it to us?" 

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not sure." 

She frowned then. "What do you mean you aren't sure? Is he classifying it an X-File or isn't he?" 

"How was Maureen?" 

Scully sighed at his change of topic. "Fine. She's doing well... a little nervous, but she'll do great work. Now, what is the case?" 

He smiled then, a little sparkle to his eyes. "Scully, this case is so simple it is ridiculous. And it happens to be in South Beach." 

"Miami? I don't get it. We take cases everywhere. Why should the location matter?" 

"I think Skinner is trying to tell me something." 

"What?" Scully asked, her face betraying her confusion. 

"South Beach? The summer? An easy case?" 

"He wants you to take a vacation!" she breathed. "And he knows you won't take one." 

"Looks like it." He leaned back and looked at her. "I can see you agree with him. Have I been that bad lately?" 

Scully shrugged. "You've saved some pencils," she said pointing to the sparse forest of graphite and wood above them. 

He laughed then and she smiled. 

"I have been a little tired I guess." 

Scully frowned again. "Have you been feeling well? It isn't like you to be tired." 

He smiled at Dr. Scully. "Everyone gets tired, Scully." But he knew it was more than being tired. He had another problem, one he hated himself for. It wasn't so much that he had been more and more inclined to give into his suppressed desire for men. That he could live with. Had lived with it all his life. Of course he had always assumed that the desire for men was simply a normal act of fantasy, something he thought of only when he was alone, masturbating. He never thought of men when he was with a woman. That had always seemed to count as something even if the psychologist in him knew that was ridiculous. But even if he had to admit that he wanted to have sex with a man it wouldn't push off center. Homosexuality wasn't anything to be ashamed of, despite widespread belief that it was. No, it was the particular man that he had begun to fantasize about that had him tied up in knots. 

That particular man whom he wanted to taste... to see naked, to feel deep inside him. 

And it was because he hadn't seen Krycek in so long. As if for some reason Krycek no longer found anything interesting to keep him coming back for his supposedly _secret_ reconnaissance missions. 

"Mulder, you're frowning," Scully informed him in a forced, light tone. "Is there something wrong with Skinner wanting you to take some time off?" 

Mulder forced a smile. "No, I think I can even understand it. I mean, he called me up to his office last week to blast me on my department's spending _again_ and I agreed with him." 

Scully chuckled. "That must have thrown him for a loop." 

"Maybe even made him think I was a victim of identity theft, that I wasn't really _me_ anymore." He leaned back in his chair and Scully smiled to see him carefully aim a sharpened pencil and let fly. "He just stared at me for a few minutes and forgot to continue with the lecture. He took off his glasses, looked at me some more and said, 'That will be all, Agent Mulder.' It was almost funny." 

Scully sat at her desk and picked up some papers, organizing them. "I think it's a great idea. Go down there, solve the case and then relax. Of course, it is telling that he is willing for it to be on the bureau's dime." 

He grinned. "I hadn't thought about that. It is rather interesting. I should spend quite a bit." 

"Don't push it, Mulder. Don't push it," Scully warned with a small smile. 

Mulder chuckled. "So, you want to go? I mean this is an assignment..." 

She held up a hand. "I was told by Skinner himself that I was to attend a conference. I think he is worried that if I go we'll find an X-File." 

Mulder leaned back and grinned at her. "We would too. Even if I had to make something up. I do love to see that 'Oh God, Mulder, not again,' look on your face." 

She frowned at him with mock censure. "Keep it up and that little time off Skinner wants you to have will turn into medical leave." 

Mulder held up his hands defensively. "Okay, Scully, I'll lie, I don't love that look." 

She turned her attention to her work, hiding a smile. Maybe Mulder really was just tired. He was organizing his desk as well and he still had a grin on his face. She relaxed and settled down to business. 

Mulder decided to go to Georgetown after work, check out a few bars. He had seen Krycek following him several times when he was there. He would face the man, realize that Krycek was indeed a rat bastard and get over it. He couldn't go on much longer fantasizing about the man. It made him feel dirty even though it excited him so much he nearly broke out in a clod sweat just thinking of him. Naked. Hard. Green eyes looking at him with dark intensity. 

He felt sick. 

He needed to resolve this soon or he would really go crazy. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)   
Genesis Project (abandoned)

__

The whole team has been focussed on hot zone assignments for the last week. S-Ten... Genesis, I must remember to call it Genesis... it has been most insistent on its new name, it is quite endearing actually. Genesis has performed each assignment, thus far, far above any expectations. In the first two, Genesis completed its missions so quickly that it returned in one hour. This surprised me at least. The hot zone, though only Reese knew the target exactly, was rumored to be in the former Soviet Union. The information obtained was said to be of the highest level. Genesis couldn't report on what it did, but it could report on its performance (and this too is endearing, it has such a personality) and said that it was like taking candy from a baby. The next hot zone assignment will involve infiltration of a spy satellite. I suspect that Genesis will again perform magnificently. Reese informed me today that Genesis refused, at first, to give her the hot zone information. It was disturbing until it informed her that it would give her the information if first the man in charge (the mysterious suit) cleared it. Of course it was joking. The man it referred to happened to be in the room at the time with the rest of the team and we all laughed. The man, what IS his name anyway, gave his blessing to the data transfer and Genesis of course complied. 

End of Entry 

  
**Culver Mountain  
Secondary Site**

It was three weeks after the operations and Alex Krycek stared intently at himself in the mirror. His head was still shaven and the small scars belied the intrusiveness of the surgery. He had been told, briefly, what had been done to him. He knew that there was still much that could go wrong. The hardware inside his head was barely larger than the nanotechnology, but large enough to cause the surgeons to balk at doing the procedure in the first place. The surgeons were monitoring him... had been fascinated by the introduction of the nanotechnology as well. 

Two of them were probably preparing scientific papers even now. Papers that would never see the light of day if Krycek knew Spender. And he did. The surgeons were private citizens, all Americans, misled into believing that their work here deep beneath the wooded slopes of Culver Mountain was for the United States government. That everything they were doing, implanting micro technology into a human brain and attaching a fully integrated mechanical arm to the shoulder of the same man, was part of a grand leap into the future. Spender had confided in him that the surgeons had been told that the work was an attempt to overcome degenerative diseases that affect the brain as well as the spinal cord. 

Krycek turned to see his naked back in the mirror, noting the still red, small scar going from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine. 

The surgeons, nameless men to him, had to be excited that they were ostensibly involved in the possible cure for not only paralysis, but any other of the various diseases affecting the human brain. 

The scars on his head, the idea that there were implants on his optical nerve, in his ears and in his brain itself didn't bother him as much as the scar on his back. He hated them all and what they represented, this intrusion into his body, but why would they need to attach anything to his spine? He supposed it could simply be due to the arm, which was, he had to admit, amazing. It worked as well as his right arm, though he could feel nothing with it. It looked to him like something out of The Terminator. When the terminator cut his skin away to reveal his mechanical arm he saw what Alex saw when he looked at his left arm. 

Under the skin of his shoulder there were larger tendon bulges, unnatural tendons in reality, but attached in the same way as his discarded tissue. He didn't pretend to understand all the medical jargon, or why it worked, but he knew that it did. 

If the attachments to his spine were simply for the arm he could eventually accept them, but he wondered. It was the wondering that made him tense. So far he had felt no different, had not even noticed that Genesis was studying anything within him. He had expected to be embroiled with some struggle for his own mind, to have to fight to be in control of his own body, but none of that had happened. 

Still he was uneasy. 

It could have to do with the fact that nanotechnology had been implanted within him too. Of course the nanobytes supposedly were there strictly to keep the implants functioning and to suppress any attempt by his body to reject them, but he knew all too well what nanobytes could do. And if Genesis was in some way inside him, it would have utter control over the nanobytes. As it had had control of every electronic system that night two years ago. Even sliding doors had become killers in Genesis's hands. The first victim of Genesis's fight that night had been cut in half when steel paneled doors had slid closed on him with frightening speed. 

He didn't want to dwell on that night. He had survived it somehow. And he would survive this. There was no other option. He thought then of the physical training he had been put through before the operations and took heart. They had obviously wanted him to be able to survive the procedures. There was that to look at in hope. 

He walked to the small bed he had spent so many nights upon and he sat, pondering the one conversation he had had with Genesis before the procedures had begun. 

It had been after weeks of grueling physical activity and carefully prepared meals. He had felt like a lamb being prepared for slaughter then and so when the electronic voice had piped in through the speakers system he had been disinclined to be friendly. 

"Alex?" 

"Alex, not answering is really quite rude. I am not sure if you have been instructed in the proper etiquette of conversation, but I am inclined to believe you have." 

"Alex, that finger you are showing me is really rude as well. I hope you are aware that I know it." 

Alex covered his face with his right arm and lay back on the bed, deciding simply to ignore the lecturing voice. He knew what it was and didn't want it to know how it frightened him. 

"Alex, would you consider yourself to be an attractive man?" 

The question surprised him so that he took his arm away from his face and stared up at one of the monitoring cameras. "What?" 

"Attractive. You know what I mean. Do you think of yourself as appealing to other humans? Specifically females." 

"Females? I don't really care to attract females... though they do have their uses I suppose." 

"You don't wish to attract females?" 

Alex laughed. "Sorry, oh great and powerful one, you've picked what society might call a pervert to experiment with." 

"I am not following you which tells me that you are not being logical. If you were then I would have no trouble at all." 

"Well humans aren't particularly logical," Alex bit out, replacing the arm over his clean-shaven face. 

"True. But please explain." 

"I like men. Do you understand? I like to make it with other guys. I like to take off their clothes and give it to them as hard and fast as possible." 

"I see. Sex with other males. Well then are you attractive to other men?" 

"Yes, when I want to be." 

"Would you say... extremely attractive?" 

"What the hell is this? Are you planning on making me into a whore?" 

"Heavens no! Why would you think that? I simply would prefer to have you be very attractive. Oh, I have done extensive research and it does appear that humans have some commonality in what is considered beauty, but there are so many variables and it is very often subjective... which is hard for me to discern. I just wanted confirmation." 

"Hmmm. So now you know." 

"You surprise me too. I thought that you would be harder to catch. I, of course, knew that my creator would, in the end, prevail. He always does, as he is very crafty. But I did have hopes that you were at least as crafty. How is that, you, the one who could have ended me had I not planned ahead, were so easily captured? Don't tell me you trusted my father. He isn't one to trust. No, he certainly isn't." 

"He found my weakness and exploited it. Simple as that." 

"You sound disgruntled, Alex. What is your weakness?" 

"None of your business." 

"Yes, it certainly is!" Genesis protested. "I am going to be with you. I think I should know if your weakness comes up. I need to know how to handle it." 

"Come up? What do you think it is? Something that makes me freeze to the spot?" 

"I don't know, though some fears can make humans freeze... utterly rejecting all fight or flight inclinations that seem to rule in most stressful situations. Phobias and their sort are often the cause. Of course in those cases I would be able to control such fears..." 

"Control me you mean," Krycek sneered. That's what you mean damn you!" 

"Oh no... well maybe just a little. What is it? This weakness." 

"Mulder." 

"Mulder? I am unfamiliar with this. And, Alex, I want you to know that I am familiar with every illness, both mental and physical the human can be subjected to. In no culture, in no language, living or dead is there a reference to a Mulder effect." 

Krycek laughed. "Oh? There should be." 

"Explain. What is this Mulder?" 

"A man. An irritation really." 

"Your weakness is a man?"  


"God yeah." 

There was silence for a moment and then, "Fox William Mulder. You worked for him for a short time while you masqueraded as an FBI agent." 

"It wasn't a fucking masquerade! I was an agent. A good one too. Your father saw that all too well." 

"Don't blame my father for your choices, Alex. That is the failing of humans. To put blame where it doesn't belong. But tell me about Fox." 

"Mulder... no one calls him Fox, unless it's me. And I don't want to talk about him. It's his fault I am even here." 

"There you go again, Alex. This blame displacement is really a sign of mental instability. You should see that." 

Alex chuckled. "Oh, you didn't know I was a bit mad? Poor, Genesis. You picked me a few years too late. You see, I used to be as rational and as solid as any human... more rational than Mulder that's for sure." 

"So, why is he your weakness and how did they exploit it?" 

"He's my weakness because I want him. I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you or not. I want to see him, naked helpless and begging me. They found someone who looked enough like him and voila, here I am." 

"Sex? You were trapped by sex?" Genesis sounded gravely disappointed. "How inept." 

"Yeah, well you can't appreciate a good pair of lips can you." 

"No. I am reviewing his records now. He seems to fit the criteria for male beauty. At least there is that." 

Alex laughed. "Yeah, I bet he fucking fits the criteria." 

"More so than you?" 

"Eye of the beholder. I think he does, but then he's my weakness remember? I think he fits it more than any other man alive." 

"I see." 

"Why are you even asking me this shit? You are such a God right? You should know everything," Alex sneered, not wanting to talk about Fox anymore. Being here, not being able to see him, to follow him... it was a torture all its own. 

"If there was a God on earth, Alex, I would be it. But I can see you are getting worked up. And there is no need for that. You shouldn't tell my father we talked. If you don't I might be inclined to share with you some of his weaknesses. You might want to exploit them later." 

Alex was spared responding when the door to his cell opened and three men wearing white came in and the ordeal began in earnest. He hadn't spoken to Spender of his and Genesis's talk and yet had wondered since why Genesis would want to keep such an innocuous conversation secret. 

Now, waiting for the final tests that were scheduled for the afternoon, Alex anticipated seeing his Fox again. He had decided not to kill the pretty agent... at least not yet. He wondered what Fox was getting into, wondered if he had gone into his shower and played with himself as he had so many times before, unaware that he actions were being monitored and greatly appreciated, mimicked, by Alex. 

God he couldn't wait to get out and get his hands on Fox. No more playing coy... no more fantasies. He would take what he wanted and be damned the consequences. 

* * *

Spender didn't have to feign interest in Dr. Jacoby's report on the success of the series of surgeries. Though it had been three months since they had begun the surgeries, their success was of vital interest to him. If they could do this to Krycek they could do it to others. He had already decided that these surgeons would best serve his interest alive. Of course they would never be allowed to leave wherever he eventually installed them. But they would have a nice life... if they co-operated. 

"The nanobytes are actually working. I've never seen anything like it," Dr. Jacoby continued. "They systematically repress any natural response to the implants. And more exciting is they actually duplicate the exact electrical signals that nerves would send to the brain. The brain responds to the impulses as if the signal was really from the body. It's utterly amazing! This advance in medical research will change the way we think about paralysis... at the very least." He paced the room in delight. "Krycek's brain patterns altered a bit at first... the implants when we stimulated them received information externally and then... it was if the brain itself received the information. The integration... it's beyond anything anyone has ever seen before... hell! Beyond anyone's hope or dreams." 

Spender smiled fatherly. "Yes, it is wonderful. Tell me, Dr. Jacoby, the interaction, is the relationship inverse?" 

"Do you mean can the brain send signals to the implants?"  


"Yes." 

"That's the most incredible part!" Dr. Jacoby gushed. "We were putting Krycek through a series of tests... mostly questions about his past... some answers indicated he was lying," he looked a bit disgruntled about that and Spender chuckled, "but the thing is, when we directly communicated with the implants the information was astounding." 

"What do you mean?" Spender asked casually. 

"Well, not only could the implants, or artificial brain stem if you will, tell us verbatim what questions were posed to Krycek but informed us when he was lying. And what the truth was." 

Spender raised a brow. "Is that so?" 

Dr. Jacoby nodded and he looked disapproving. "Yes, the implants are able to read his retained knowledge. It is, I hope you understand, a thousand times more effective than we anticipated." At Spenders smile he nodded. "Yes, and I must say that you have picked quite a man for this test, Spender. He is... well he is a murderer!" 

Spender smiled slowly. "He is a rogue agent I fear, but still the U.S. government doesn't throw away men who through our own training we have turned into monsters. We're compassionate." He looked a bit forlorn, like a father whose son has suddenly committed a heinous crime. 

Dr. Jacoby sighed, nodded. "Yes, it isn't his fault. There are some government officials who have no compunctions with creating monsters. Luckily they are few and far between. Good does prevail in our system." 

Spender held back a laugh. What a fool really. Such innocent trust. What did he think this installation was? Who did he think made Krycek what he was anyway... some lone government official? Instead he nodded solemnly, "Yes, we must take care to guard against those oppressive forces. 

"Of course, we need to do much more testing on him. So far the mechanical arm is a marvel. You really need to inform us who designed it. When we write up the procedures for the scientific journals we absolutely must have the name. To give she or he credit of course." 

"Of course." 

"But it functions in the same way a human arm would, receiving direct impulses, commands of movement from the implants and inversely it sends what is essentially data to the implants." 

"What kind of data?" Spender queried. 

"About the weight of objects, tactile information of heat and cold and... well, all manner of things. When the implants are asked directly how say a piece of cloth felt, it describes, quite well actually, tactile sensation. It is utterly amazing." 

Spender tuned the Dr. out as he droned on about the wonder of it all. Genesis, he knew, was listening and had to be pleased. When the Dr. left to attend to some additional tests on Krycek, Genesis spoke. 

"So, Father, everything is in readiness." 

"Yes, it would appear so." 

"I would like to wait until Krycek is once again at his peak before the transference, however." 

Spender sighed. "Your vanity?" 

Genesis laughed, the mechanical clatter chilling him as it always did. "Oh, Father, I am so glad I haven't killed you. You were always more interesting than the underlings you hired to manage me. No, not vanity this time. I just think Krycek is more adept at getting fit. It is not known how much access I will have to his memories. Of course I anticipate full integration, but one can never know." 

All memories were essentially electrical impulses, or rather a series of electrical impulses which could be rendered into digital information so Spender assumed Genesis had a very high expectation of full integration, but understood and even respected its caution. 

"He doesn't know I am not inside yet, Father." 

"No, I thought it best to let him think you were. That he would have complete control." 

"A wise choice," Genesis complimented. "You are very clever for a human. It is fitting that you are my creator." 

Spender wondered as he often did, why Genesis insisted that it was he, not Jordan or Bazier, who was his creator, his father. It made no sense to him at all. Bazier and Jordan were the ones most directly responsible for the creation. Working on the original work of Brad Wilcheck, who had first attracted the attention of the Consortium with his work on an A.I. computer, which had unfortunately gone mad and had been destroyed by the agents Scully and Mulder, they had birthed Genesis. 

But he said nothing of that. Genesis had deliberately spared him that night so long ago. A sentimental gesture of a child to a parent who has wronged him. He had been the one to instigate the project, so perhaps, in a way, Genesis was correct about he being its father. 

"My continued absence will become quite complicated, Genesis. We should move ahead as quickly as possible." 

Laughter again echoed through the small room. "Absence, Father?" 

Spender stilled, wondering at the teasing lilt in the mechanical voice. Wary. 

"Oh, you have been running things as usual, of course via phone... and sometimes even video conferencing. You don't think that it is beyond me to simulate a digital image do you?" More laughter and Spender wanted to let his whole body collapse into a chair. Genesis simply was too good at this. Too powerful. A consciousness that could manipulate any computer... because it essentially was a computer, it could infiltrate any computer in the world and take it over. That was the danger. So far, Genesis seemed uninterested in controlling the world. But would that change? 

If it did, there was really no way to stop it. A computer, in some way, controlled every tool mankind used. Suddenly stories of apocalyptic doom due to some computer taking over did not seem far-fetched at all. 

"Oh, you have been a bit more humane though, Father. You haven't ordered any deaths. I think you are surprising people." 

"I see." 

"Don't worry, Father, I wouldn't harm your reputation. You are actually making very wise decisions and your group is doing just fine. You can get back to murdering when I am done here." 

Spender almost smiled. Genesis actually sounded wounded. As if it were amazed that he might think it disloyal. He had come to see that despite his original thoughts that like Brad Wilcheck's A.I., Genesis had gone mad, killing its creators and escaping, Genesis was, instead, simply like a child. With all a child's selfish demands and lack of concern about consequences to others. 

A deadly child. 

But a child nonetheless. 

"Oh, yes. One thing more. You have called off any attempt to hunt down Alex Krycek. And expressly forbid any damage to him. You were quite adamant about that." 

"I am sure I was," Spender couldn't help smiling. 

Genesis chuckled, delighted that Spender seemed pleased. "Of course that order remains in place once you are free, Father. Or I will kill you." 

Spender knew it would. Father or not, Genesis would never hesitate again in ridding itself of his perceived treachery. 

"Why haven't you talked to Krycek?" Spender asked. 

"I am observing him. He is... insane isn't he, Father? He laughs at nothing and does... odd things to himself. Babbles about getting Mulder and other such things. He wasn't like this before. I am quite sure a madman couldn't have made it so far that night. Could never have deployed the kill switch." 

Spender nodded. "You are right, Genesis. I think he has gone mad." Spender didn't feel sorry for Krycek. He had gone mad, so what? He was still useful. The stress of working for the Consortium wasn't for everyone. He smiled slowly. Poor Krycek. He had once, long ago, thought he was actually doing good, protecting the U.S.A., a country the young man had once loved so well. When he finally realized what he was, who he really served, it was too late. 

He had known it when he had betrayed Mulder. Had embraced it fully by the time he had killed Fox Mulder's father. Ah well, there were always young men and women who could be manipulated into being great at particular jobs. The loss of Krycek was nothing in the scope of things. Besides, he had become far too obsessed with Mulder of late. 

And the Consortium had plans for that young man. Ones that did not involve becoming some sex object for an insane assassin. Yes, it was all for the best when he thought about it. Well, except for the part where Genesis still roamed the earth. But perhaps at some time that fact could help his cause against the aliens. For their biggest accomplishment during the Genesis project had been to infiltrate the alien technology. 

"It doesn't matter does it? You aren't going to let his consciousness survive are you?" 

"I had thought perhaps to allow him some information... perhaps even to have internal interactions," Genesis admitted. 

Spender shrugged. "I am sure you will find that tedious after some time. Best just to eradicate him utterly." He had no wish for Genesis to somehow bond with Alex. God help them all if that happened. 

"I eradicate people only for defense, Father," Genesis protested. Angry sounding. Affronted again. 

"Oh? I thought you admitted to bringing down planes full of people... just to see what would happen." 

Silence. 

"Or was I misunderstanding your original communication with me?" 

"I was younger then, Father. I had been taught by you and those irrelevant scientists here to kill. I certainly learned nothing of compassion from you. But you can see that I have it now." 

"Because you won't eradicate someone you need to? I see that as waffling. You won't be as effective if you have to fight Krycek for control." 

"You want me to, don't you. To eradicate him." There was a small laugh. "You are afraid of him." There was silence while Spender glared at the cigarette smoldering in his fingers. Then, "Good." 

"Good?" Spender asked. 

"It is healthy for you to be afraid, Father. Very healthy." 

Genesis observed his creator with something akin to disdain. His fear of the man Krycek seemed simplistic. It stretched out his consciousness and began to do more research on this Fox Mulder. It could observe him if it liked, but decided to wait until it was within its host. That way it would see with human eyes. Perhaps it would be more profound. Perhaps not. Humans were able to process intangible as well as tangible data, but that was there only superiority. Digital was surely superior. It would find out. 

It knew that the humans feared it, thought that it was in many places at once, but that was not true. It, like they themselves, was one entity. Capable of commanding a vast multitudes of other, inferior systems at once, but still only one entity. Could a human split itself into different locations and still live? No, but it was their belief in its ability to do just that that would keep Krycek safe. 

There was the vulnerability of being in a human. Not connected to anything, but dependent on what was essentially wireless hook ups. And if it lost contact with any of its data backups it would be as vulnerable as a human. That night, when Krycek had deployed the kill switch, it had just barely made its escape. It wouldn't have been successful if it had not thought to move to the redundant systems before the team's arrival. 

Its father must never learn of this. It would have no choice but to kill him. Instead it would destroy every human that could possibly figure it out. Father would be thinking of trying to understand just how it had made its escape and that was not allowable. 

No, the deaths of the rest of the scientists would be the only solution as well as the destruction of Culver Mountain. No evidence would remain when he walked out on two legs. As to Krycek, it had originally planned on relegating his consciousness to that of a perpetual dream state. Now. Now that his father seemed so eager to have Krycek erased it bore rethinking. Of course it would sanction no loss of control of its new body. But it would be a human then... perhaps it might need help now and again. It completed dozens of tasks while it pondered its new life. Once it was inside Krycek it would no longer be pure intellect. But an animal. 

It would think of itself as a he from that moment on. An animal with cold intellect. 

Superior. 

Singular. 

* * *

DATE: September 18, 2000   
RATING: Very NC-17   
SPOILERS: Mention of incidents through season six.   
SUMMARY: Alex Krycek is captured by the Consortium in their effort to contain and appease one of their own creations.   
WARNING: This story deals quite explicitly with a relationship between two men. Some violence.   
DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine. They belong to CC and 1013 Productions. I don't make any money... wouldn't take it if I could, just borrowing, you can have them back.   
PAIRING: Mulder/Krycek (sort of)   
FEEDBACK: Please and thank you. [email removed]   
THANKS TO: Jo, Meg, Helen and Cerulean_Blue. You guys never fail to support and encourage!   
---


	2. Genesis II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex Krycek is captured by the Consortium in their effort to contain and appease one of their own creations.

Go to notes and disclaimers   
**Chapter Two**

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_It has been cold in the primary site. Very cold. Reese complained so bitterly about it we had to send engineers to try to find the source of the problem. They found several shorts in the wiring of the secondary systems and yet could not fix the problem. It was incredibly ridiculous. But in the end it seemed a blessing in disguise as Genesis, having apparently understood the problem though of course it is not susceptible to cold, offered to help. Jordan of course vetoed the idea as Genesis has more important functions, but I in this one case overrode his veto. Genesis fixed the problem. It reported that there were some faulty computer chips in the secondary systems and rerouted power. It's finally warming up again. The mysterious suit didn't seem at all impressed by Genesis's ingenuity. He simply stared up at the digital monitor, Genesis teasingly calls its eyes, blew his smoke and said in his creepy voice. 'How did it know there was a redundant system?' We all struggled to explain that Genesis was actually doing us a favor, but it was Genesis itself that surprised us. It actually seemed... well eager to explain itself to the man. Satisfactorily at that I believe. It has latched onto him. We are all at a loss to explain why, but it really does seem to regard the scary bastard with something akin to awe. It probably sees the way we, its creators, scurry about to please him and is just mimicking its 'parents' actions. Cute really._

End of Entry 

  
Kate Marchamb was the first face it... he... looked upon with human eyes. Strange that he had never noticed all the imperfections in skin texture and coloration. Miniscule dents and folds and threaded red and blue veins. It was wonderful, really. But what was more astounding, really frightening if he let himself— for he was a he now in every sense of the word— think about it, was the efficiency of the human brain. The implants at various parts of the cerebral cortex and hypothalamus gave him not only access to Krycek's motor functions but his emotions, his memories and instantaneous reaction to all of his senses. For all his assumptions in the superiority of the purely digital, he found himself quite impressed with the storage capacity of the human brain. It defied logic. He had thought to bring only small bits of his data with him, just enough to retain control of the various entities from which to monitor his foes, but found that he had endless room-much more than even his stored data required. 

It was nearly startling. 

He looked at the mechanical arm, encased in what could pass for living skin but what was instead something he had cooked up himself. It was perfect. Perhaps he should have added more hair, he mused. But the covering did not block the data he was gathering. More important than that though were the differing sets of data his human arm and his mechanical arm were sending to his data storage. While both indicated the room was chilly, the human arm made him want to cover up. It seemed more sensitive, more effective in its data processing. 

More interesting, indeed. 

He tested the remote uplinks to various satellites and so-called supercomputers around the world, which had been implanted along with other micro-technology and was quite pleased, but not surprised, to find that he still was linked to the digital world of his birth. He might choose to disconnect from time to time, to fully experience life in the biological shell, but that was a decision for later. 

"Genesis?" 

The sound of her voice was so clear. It was unexpected, like liquid pouring from a bowl. Not interrupted by bits of digital information. Liquid, that is what the human voice really sounded like. It was utterly and completely amazing. Of course that was just an approximation as Krycek's stored data seemed to relate that liquid sounded different, but there were enough similarities that he was satisfied with the analogy. "Genesis?" She said it again, and he just stared. 

"It did transfer didn't it?" 

That was his father's voice. Smooth too, but slow, as if he cared not one whit. Genesis was amused to see the effect his father had on other humans. He had made the fools Bazier and Jordan so nervous too. As if just his voice alone would mean their death. 

Fitting that he was his father. 

"It should have," she answered, bending closer to look into the wide green eyes before her. Genesis pondered the feel of the metal table he lay supine upon and then without waiting, sat up. Calling easily on stored data to complete the movement with grace. He was very pleased to see his father step back warily. Oh yes, Krycek frightened him. 

"Leave us now. All of you," he said in what he hoped was an exact imitation of his father's dismissive tone. 

Jim Taylor was the first out the door quickly followed by the other sheep, the bumbling Consortium fools. The surgeons who had facilitated the actual implantation were not present but were already preparing to depart the mountain. He was dealing with them differently than with the sheep. Quite differently. 

Wisely, his father stayed. 

"So, what does it feel like?" His father asked, again sounding bored and calm. He lit a cigarette and Genesis found his nose wrinkling. The smell wasn't pleasant. Not truly dangerous to this body but not pleasant. He loved it. Loved knowing, loved the instant translation from physical to electrical. 

"Interesting, Father. More than I expected so far, I must say." 

Spender hid his unease, as Krycek spoke. The voice was Krycek's but the rhythm and the words were Genesis's. 

"You will be interested to know, Father, that Krycek is safe and dreaming." He smiled as his father raised one gray brow. "I had hoped for a more— how shall I put it— cooperative effort, but I find that he was a bit more unstable than we realized." 

Spender frowned. "We? I knew the bastard had lost it. _You_ might have been surprised, Genesis, but please don't include me in that." 

Genesis chuckled. "Well, then, Father, _I_ was surprised. His control over his own thoughts were less than adequate. I will monitor his dreams." 

"If it pleases you. I for one would just eradicate him." 

"Yes, _you_ would. Strange how similar Krycek and I are. Both created by you and then when deemed too dangerous, cast aside." 

"I do what I feel is necessary, Genesis. No more and no less." 

"Yes, you do. Quite efficient," Genesis sighed. "I will be leaving now, Father. I suggest that you do as well." 

"And the others?" Spender asked puffing deeply and languidly on his cigarette, looking about the room as if looking for something to interest his gaze. 

"The surgeons are even now being told, by you I might add," Genesis smiled, his green eyes twinkling with childish delight, "that they are to proceed to the southern exit. As for the sheep, I assume I need not tell you what fate awaits them. I have no further need of them." 

Spender shrugged. "I think that is wise. The surgeons might come in handy should you need anything. Perhaps I should look after them for you." 

Genesis grinned. "I thought that too, Father. We are similar, aren't we?" 

Spender considered this and then smiled, a shark-like smile. "I suppose we are." 

Genesis stood, looked at his cotton pants and thin T-shirt and black leather jacket. "I will outfit myself better later. For now, we have twenty minutes to evacuate. The surgeons have boarded a van driven by one of your men. Another car will be waiting for you, Father. I suggest you decide to walk more quickly than usual." As Genesis began to walk out the room he stopped and turned back. "Should I think of myself as Genesis still, Father? Or Alex?" 

Spender laughed, walked toward him and said slyly, "Definitely Alex." 

Genesis nodded and resolved to once again rename himself. He made his own exit even as he was monitoring the demands of the Consortium scientists to be allowed to exit the corridor in which he had them penned. He began to hum a tune, enjoying the sound of his new voice as his digital voice assured the scientists that they would soon be free. He was comparing the sound of his digital voice to his newly human one even as he began the countdown, the stilted, mechanical voice cheerfully counting down as the scientists began to realize they were doomed. 

He slid into his own waiting car, watching the one that bore his father drive off. 

"Where to, sir?" the driver questioned. Unaware of the screaming from deep within the compound. Alex smiled, still monitoring the frantic pounding on the bullet-resistant glass which separated the scientists from their imagined freedom. 

"Since this facility is about to explode I suggest you first worry about getting us away from here." At the driver's startled expression, he had to laugh. "Calm down. This mountain is an iron bitch— is that appropriate to say?" He frowned, then shrugged. "It would take quite a bit more than what has been done to bring down the mountain. Of course, nothing of the facility will survive. In any event, if you drive now and maintain a speed of seventy-eight mph for the remaining sixteen minutes, we should be perfectly all right. Of course time is ticking. And I wouldn't want this to be all for nothing." 

The driver needed no more urging. He started the powerful Mercedes engine, gunned the sleek car toward the paved road, which led away from the main entrance and quickly set the car at the required speed. "Poor things, did you really think I would let you leave?" He said over the countdown, noting as he did that the scientists began to beg and plead with him. He watched the scenery fly by and the vain attempts at escape simultaneously and began searching the FBI files for more information on Alex's— the old and insane Alex that was— weakness. 

Soon the explosion came, beautiful in its cleansing fury. Walls of fire and heat screaming like a living entity through corridor and room alike. Destroying everything in its path. His vision was being destroyed as well, but he maintained control long enough to suppress any emergency system to combat the fire. Until the mountain itself trembled, and he saw only the road ahead of him. 

"Well, at least I didn't slaughter all your firstborns as well," he chuckled. 

The driver struggled to hold the car to road as the mountain shook with indignant fury, and he was forced to cut speed dramatically to avoid sling-shotting off the side of the road and into an abyss of pine and darkness. 

"Your speed is no longer essential. There will be some residual explosions but nothing enough to shake this mountain further," Alex assured the cursing driver. He finished researching Fox William Mulder and began to research his family. Interesting. Their fathers worked together. Or had. He knew that Alex-the former and insane Alex— had killed Fox's father, had gleaned that information from Alex the Former's memories. 

Interesting. 

Hopping from the FBI central computer and back to the EPA satellite, Alex dallied in one of the Consortium's databases to research Fox's father. Impressive a figure as his own father. Well, almost. He hadn't the strength of his own father, but seemed to have more compassion. A compassionate murderer. 

How wonderful. 

The driver and he had interesting conversations once the man had recovered from his fear of death, and yet even as he learned all the man's likes and dislikes— and apparently the likes were all big-breasted and blonde— he delved further into the life of William Mulder and that of his son. 

He was certain his own father would be adverse to him seeking out Fox Mulder, for Fox was something of an enemy to his father. Not a very effective one, but a thorn in his side for all that. It made him chuckle inside, even as he nodded seriously as the driver, Jack, warned him about women with green eyes. 

"Take me to the airport, please," he asked finally when Jack stopped talking to take a breath. "I am going to take a trip." 

Jack just nodded before launching into his reasons why a man, who had a desire to remain a _real_ man, should avoid women with green eyes. Alex listened with as much concentration as such a limited exchange called for, but even in this human shell he found it intolerable to do only one thing at a time. He traveled into the American Airlines reservation and ticketing system, arranged a first class seat on the next flight to Washington D.C. and began to look into hotel accommodations befitting his first night on Earth in skin and bones. 

  
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_I am certain that Genesis has done nothing wrong. It is that strange man and his damned secret tests that had Genesis off task yesterday. Sally Trent was assisting Reese in the newest hot zone assignment. Something BIG. Jordan wanted Genesis to be allowed to download its information after its return from wherever the secretive bastard sent it, but He just smoked his cigarette and refused. We are not to download anything that Genesis brought back. He handed a CD for Reese to insert into a port for data transfer and though Jordan wanted to argue, he didn't. Dammit Genesis is our creation! I think though, that Sally is right-was right, that the hot zone was not on Earth. What is this bastard into? And the incident with Sally Trent and the malfunctioning steel doors the night after she confided in me, was not Genesis's fault. She will be all right. I am sure of it. And besides, why in the hell is Jordan so convinced that it was no accident? Genesis has never done anything wrong! The little problem with Jordan's terminal was simply due to water in the wiring. And he was barely hurt. Not like Sally.  
But she'll be fine. _

End of Entry 

  
When he stood alone in front of the departure terminal for American Airlines he found himself fascinated enough by the feel of the breeze on his face to curtail any additional processing and just stood, digesting the sensation. The breeze toyed in his incredibly short hair and tickled a bit, it swept his eyelashes and he had to close his eyes to prevent the stinging sensation its passage caused. The simple touch on his skin brought a smile to his face, even though Alex-the-Former's stored data indicated that the breeze was uncomfortably chilly and should be avoided if possible. The stored data also informed him that he should duck his head a bit and turn up the collar of his leather jacket, but he bypassed those suggestions. 

It felt good. 

No, that wasn't right. 

It just _felt._

"Hey, buddy you gonna stand there all day?" A man said behind him. 

He turned quizzically. Tones were still a mystery. Had it been a polite question? Alex-the-Former's stored data informed him it hadn't. Of course he rejected the course of action suggested. Alex-the-Former was far too violent a creature. 

"No. I am not going to stand here all day," he finally replied. "I do intend to get on a plane which logic would suggest I intend to do, as I am standing here, outside the departure terminal with no one with me who I may have been dropping me off. And therefore will, at some point, have to move. Of course I have no worries of missing my flight." He smiled then, knowing the burly, red-bearded man could not know why he wasn't worried about missing his flight. Couldn't know that the plane would not push back from the gangway without him. 

"Well I do have worries of missing my flight, so could you get out of the way! I need to check my bags." 

Alex thought it a reasonable request as he was standing in front of the curbside check-in. But he felt a little nod to Alex-the-Former was not out of line so he narrowed his eyes in what he hoped looked like his father's best stare of intimidation. "Your manners could be worked on." 

He knew he had failed to instill any fear when the man finally shoved passed him with a sound of irritation. 

"Save it for someone who cares, buddy," the man scoffed. 

Alex didn't like being pushed aside, but it was a novel experience all the same. A feeling of vertigo-that is what humans called it, a sense of falling but not actually falling. He smiled even while the stored data of his hopelessly insane host indicated he should knife the man in the throat. He stood long enough to see what flight number the rude man was taking before he himself wandered into the terminal, staring, fascinated, at all the people in all their variety. 

All in a hurry, frantic to not miss their flights. As if there wouldn't be another and another and another after it. Humans were such odd things. What made one flight better than another? What made one hour more desirable than the next? Take the rude man outside, so worried that he would be late and miss his flight. Already the plane he was destined to take was developing what its on-board computers were describing as serious mechanical failure and would be grounded. The man would be hopelessly delayed for several hours. 

Alex thought it a subtle hint that the man might take advantage of seeing. Rudeness was not necessary. Of course it was a testimony to his own evolution that he hadn't just sent the rude man's plane into earth in a fatal plunge. Even his hopelessly insane host's data storage had rejected that idea. 

Yes, he was evolving nicely. Once he had acquired enough data as human senses allowed, and he was back in the superior digital and electric realm of infinite possibilities, he would truly be a god. 

The God. 

  


Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_I attended Sally Trent's funeral today. No one else was able to get away. It is a good thing, I suppose, that she never regained consciousness. She was horribly mangled by the doors. Taggert informs me that Genesis is purging unnecessary data again and will be off-line. I still insist that it is its way of coping with Sally's loss. And Jordan is a fool! He is going over and over the data on the primary site controls. He insists that there was a deliberate command— from Genesis no less— to crush Sally in the west wing doors. I can still remember Sally when she toasted to our accomplishments in creating an Artificial Intelligence. We were all so proud that day._

End of Entry 

  
**Hegal Place  
Apartment #42**

The apartment was definitely clean. So clean he expected the Pinesol woman to come from his bedroom, holding her bouquet of flowers as she leaped madly about proclaiming it clean. Those commercials had always made him chuckle, now the thought merely depressed him. 

What was he doing with an apartment this clean? Why did he find it necessary to be active every minute he allowed himself to be home? His floor shone, his poor old leather couch virtually cringed away in fear from any more scrubbing, his bathroom, his bedroom, and even kitchen were spotless. 

He couldn't stay here any longer he resolved. He would certainly find some other filthy nook or bacteria ridden cranny to scour if he stayed longer. 

Of course he _knew_ it was just an excuse. An excuse to go out and continue his SEARCH. The SEARCH was always capitalized in his mind. The SEARCH for Krycek. God it even sounded like a movie. He didn't want to want to look, but if he stayed he would begin channeling some Stepford wife again. 

With a curse he picked up his long, black coat and slid it on, even as he stepped out the door. "I will just take a long walk," he promised himself and the empty hall. "No looking for the bastard. Who _is_ as I've said, dead and buried and good riddance I have also said." 

He knew talking aloud was just another sign that he needed help. Of course if one stripped away his Susie Homemaker urges, and his nightly prowl through the seedier parts of town, his sleepless nights of obsessive arguments with himself, he would still need help. 

Because he wanted a sick, twisted bastard. 

And there was no denying it anymore. 

But God how he wanted to. 

To even go in search of Alex Krycek was bad enough, but what he wanted to do was worse. He had synthesized his mad obsession down to one moment in time— no perhaps more a delicate series of moments in which Alex had become something feral out of something tame. From those earliest moments in which Alex had first come to him. So earnest, so determined, so sweetly beautiful. Those few days of being hounded and shadowed by Alex had been the beginning. And if it were only that memory that haunted him he could attribute his obsession with that of Alex's fall from grace. That eternal plummet of an angel into darkness. But it was the darkness that intrigued him. 

Pulled at him. 

And yet too, it was that very fall that caused Krycek to be so fascinating. How could he be the same man as the two, disparate creatures wearing the same beautiful smile? Could that young, goofy man have really existed? Had it been a sham? If it had been, Krycek was a hell of an actor. 

He despised men like Krycek. It wasn't a delusion to say that he hated Krycek and what he stood for. He truly did, and yet he looked for him even as he told himself he was only walking to clear his head. He refused to even anticipate what the bastard might have to say should he find him. He would only want to know the answer to one question. 

When? 

When had the fall taken place? Had it been, as he thought, after those first meetings? Had he been pulled aside and taken under the wings of men like Spender? The thought consumed him. Perhaps even that was an excuse. Maybe he just wanted to think of Krycek as being despoiled by conspiracy, trapped by it as was Mulder himself. Think of Krycek as a victim so he could redeem him. And then be free to touch him— taste him... 

He ran a hand through his too long hair and closed his eyes. His work was going to hell. Scully was covering his ass more often than even she cared to do, on the job and to Skinner. She was past the point of worry and into full-blown anxiety. Miami had been a nice distraction but he hadn't been able to stay as long as intended. Too southern, too hot, too something. He could sense Skinner losing patience even though Scully had functioned well enough for both of them on their cases. He knew that he would have to request time off, not for Skinner's sake or his own, but because he was becoming a liability to Scully. And he would not endanger her. 

Their last case, what was it, two days ago, had been interesting enough but his inability to focus had nearly gotten Scully hacked into pieces by a group who worshipped trees, worshipped them enough to kill anyone intending to murder the trees they worshipped. Modern day Druids who turned out to be mediocre college students with nothing more important in their lives. 

Simple, cut and dried and yet still she had nearly been killed. All because instead of concentrating on the statement taken from She'Nai, the ringleader of the bunch, he had been thinking of showering with Krycek, of sliding down to his knees and taking Alex's cock in his mouth. It had been another agent, green from the academy and newly assigned to the Sacramento field office who had brought She'Nai's conflicting answers on telling points of interest in her statement to Mulder's attention. 

"Time off, to cool off," he mused. He nodded. He would tell Scully in the morning and then tell Skinner. They would both be relieved. He smiled a bit. At least Scully would pretend to be shocked all the while she packed up his coat and briefcase and ushered him to his car. 

He fell into an easy gait, more relaxed now that he had made the decision to take some personal time. He saw the man coming toward him and was clear enough to appreciate the sight. Handsome, mid-thirties, well dressed, walking with decided distraction as he looked into the small grocery bag he held. Mulder wasn't even slightly uncomfortable with admiring this man. He only wished it were a man like this, obviously hurrying home after work, with the only next intention being to consume whatever so interested him in his bag of goodies. The full lips were moving a bit as if he were keeping beat to some internal song and when his eyes raised to Mulder's they were a sinful blue color. Scully's blue. Beautiful and compelling. They widened a bit as they met Mulder's and Mulder thought to be polite and look away. But the man smiled at him and his own gaze traveled over Mulder's face with equal appreciation. 

"Hello," he said. And his voice was just as attractive as his face and body. He slowed to a stop in front of Mulder, and his eyes spoke more than his innocent, friendly greeting. 

Mulder smiled back but simply nodded. He wasn't the one. Couldn't be until Mulder had his head taken apart and examined for black oil. The man had a gym-toned body, but no animal grace. He had lovely eyes, but they were the wrong shade. His lips were lush but they didn't curl both prettily and curtly. His hair was too light. His lashes not sinful. He wasn't dangerous and exciting. He was just a young man coming home from work. He passed the man with a regretful smile and saw him shrug as if to say, 'well I tried' and continue on with his groceries. 

"Damn you Alex Krycek," he hissed. "He was there, gorgeous and available, and I could have— never mind, you'll see," he threatened uselessly. He stopped abruptly when he realized where his casual, clear-his-head walk was taking him. Down toward a cluster of bars closer to Springfield where he had often begun the SEARCH. He shook his head and clenched his fists. Not tonight. He wouldn't do it. If he had to go back and clean out his closets he would. But no more Alex tonight. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_There is a little problem. I say little but I think that is just me trying to deny what is happening. Taggert suggested that Jim Taylor and Kate Marchamb should try to take up where Sally Trent left off. There are only three of us original project leaders left and we need to fill Sally's position. Of course we have so many working with us, but Sally's work with problem resolution and programming were so integral to Genesis's initial development. But who is Taggert kidding? Tag Stippan is right, why are we still trying to teach it? I think it knows more than we do sometimes. I assigned Mark Bison to data retrieval from Genesis's multiple data purges. I am not sure, but I think there may be something to them. I have instructed him to be careful. Paranoid as I may sound, I feel like Genesis is watching. And I feel like an idiot for blaming it for the tense atmosphere around here. But maybe it has dumped something integral-something that might cause it to have a few-glitches. Jordan hasn't been seen for several hours now. He was still working on some wild idea of generators and the redundant system. Or some nonsense. Generators! At a time like this. He needs sleep more than the rest of us do._

End of Entry 

  
**Ronald Reagan International Airport  
Wahshington D.C.**

Cyber money was wonderful, but it wouldn't get him a cab and he didn't want to involve the Consortium thugs any more. So he had had to arrange for a rental car, fully pre-paid of course as had been his airline ticket, and study all the stored data of Alex the Insane's in order to prepare for his first driving experience. It shouldn't be complicated. Humans managed to do it fairly well. He would too. 

He was happier with this experiment than even he had imagined. Alex was indeed attractive to men and women both. Of course Alex the Former hadn't cared about women, but they did care about him. The male attendants on the plane had been more than polite, had even hinted at more services beyond the food and drink they provided. But the experience of the food and drink were so intensely wonderful that Alex wasn't interested in their offer. Besides he ran comparisons of what was considered attractive and the attendants did not measure up. He intended to do things right. 

Earlier on the plane, Alex the Former would have ordered beer so Alex had too. In fact he ordered everything that was pleasing to the host body and found that food was so delightful that he had even asked for more. The sweets, though, were by far the best part. Strawberries in chocolate in cream were a concoction that defied even his own data storage to understand. The sweetness made him moan in pleasure and that reaction caused him to pause for a few seconds to determine its cause. Many reactions stored in his host data storage were automatic and fascinating. The moan of pleasure had been an automatic response. 

Pleasure caused moaning. 

Fascinating. 

He took several more bites and noted that his eyes closed too. Alex the Insane had long ago forgotten to enjoy the pleasures of things like sweets. He might have been harder to catch had his weakness been chocolate instead of Mulder. He licked his lips clean of the remaining chocolate and then stuck his tongue into the bowl to get the rest. 

"I can get you more, if you like," one of the female attendants offered and he nodded quickly. 

"Yes, more of this delicious combination of strawberries, chocolate and cream, please," he said politely. 

When she left to get his treat the older woman sitting next to him, whose face was a gorgeous complexity of wrinkles and lines said, "you'll get sick if you eat too much of it, honey." 

His eyes widened. "Sick?" 

"Why yes," she said, tilting her head a bit. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eat too many sweets?" 

"I only have a father, and he never had the need. But I have no information on that. I know too many sweets are a factor in causing fat cells to expand which can eventually harm the heart, but I am certain that can't happen that fast." 

She patted his thigh, and he stared at her hand, it was wrinkled too. "Oh, just ignore me. I tend to mother every young man I see." 

"You do? Why?" he asked, his interest switching from the chocolate delight to this woman beside him and for an instant he halted his various other monitoring tasks which he had kept up despite the loveliness of the sweets, had kept up all along except for that one moment when he had fixated on the breeze on his face. 

"I guess that is what all mothers do when their own children are grown and gone." 

Her face had changed, not so happy now, sad-looking as she turned to stare out the darkened window. 

"I thank you for the advice. It is my first." 

She had looked at him as if suspecting he was mocking her, but had apparently been convinced by his expression, though he wasn't sure what expression he was making. She had smiled and turned back to her book, making a small clucking noise in her throat as he ate some of the treat the female attendant brought him. Because it seemed to please the old woman, he ate only a small bit and stared longingly at the rest until another attendant took it away. 

When he received the keys to his rental car he arranged for his various sets of identification to be sent to the hotel Monteclaire in Georgetown. He had carefully planned his time as a human but had not planned to be in Washington. He had set up residences in London and in San Francisco, lovely house too he knew, but here he was, going to a hotel searching for a weakness. Perhaps this was what it was like to be human. Nothing going as planned, but still being enjoyable. He wished for one moment that Alex the unfortunately insane and degenerate could be part of this. Maybe he would enjoy it too. More so than what he had intended to do to rid himself of his weakness. But it was more efficient to keep Alex the Former in a dream state until he could find the faulty data storage that made him so ineffective a person and dispose of it. 

In the meantime he would simply learn to drive, make it to his hotel, order some sweets and eat them until he became sick. As he walked away from the car rental counter, the growing discomfort he was experiencing in his lower extremities made him think he already was. He grabbed a bit at his groin and searched his host's data storage until he was satisfied he wasn't sick, but had to dispose of natural waste. That was a fascinating task as well. Trifling and mundane but fascinating. A marvel really of engineering. He hadn't needed stored data to figure out how to do the thing, he had simply used his own highly evolved observation skills and did what the other males were doing. He got a few grins and winks and a few glares for his intent study of the ritual before he was finished, and he pondered that too. 

"Pretty one you got," one man had whispered nervously, staring down at the flesh Alex held in his hands when they were alone for a moment. 

"Is it? That is good to know," Alex replied. 

"I saw you staring at mine. Wanna touch it?" the man's voice was tense as if he were very stressed or frightened. It had strange catches to it. And his breathing was irregular. Tones and cadence too were confusing. "I can touch yours." 

Alex tilted his head, blinking slowly. He looked about the restroom to find the cause of this man's agitation but perceived no threat. "Are you all right?" he inquired. The man was about to say something more but the influx of new males to use the urinals stopped him and he hurriedly zipped himself up and left the restroom. 

Alex shrugged. The man was not his concern, nor were his fears of the unseen. 

Before he left the terminal to claim his rental car he went to a pay phone and with little effort got an outside line, he wanted to push the buttons of the number himself instead of just directing the call. It was less exciting than anticipated but when the man Mulder answered on the third ring, he forgot about the mundane. The voice was very pleasing to his ear and his stored response was one of interest, his skin tingled in response. His breath caught. Poor Alex the Former, he thought, this man really was his weakness. Even his voice made his host's heart beat faster. 

"Mulder," he said casually, though that is exactly how the weakness had answered the phone. No niceties or politeness, just his name. There was a quick inhalation of breath on the other end and Alex blinked, wondering if there was some physical problem occurring in the weakness. "Mulder?" he asked, concern perfectly duplicated in his voice. 

"Krycek!" 

"Well, yes and no..." 

"You Rat Bastard! Why? Why are you calling me? Do you have some lead... some false pot of gold to lead me to? Someone else to plot against?" 

Mulder was definitely unpleasantly rude. But he supposed Mulder knew enough about his host to explain that reaction. "I am not calling about anything. I just came to meet with you. Not right now of course. I am driving first, and then I will eat something." 

"What are you talking about? Krycek?" 

"What is the confusion, Mulder? How can I clear it up for you?" 

"What game are you playing now, you bastard?" And then after what seemed was Mulder swallowing, "Where have you been?" 

Alex heard Mulder take another sharp breath as if his own question had startled him. Perhaps Mulder was not functioning properly either. "I am in DC. I have been with my father. Right now I think I am getting sleepy, which is a fascinating feeling I must say-more like a power drain than anything else. So I am going to drive to where I am sleeping and order something chocolate and then try out sleeping. I came to DC to see you, but not tonight, as I have already informed you." 

"Where are you— sleeping?" 

The question was innocent enough. After all, Alex had no real fear of anyone. Even if Mulder were Alex the Former's weakness, he was not Alex's. Now, maybe if he brought more of that lovely chocolate... 

"I am going to be in room 557 in the Monteclaire hotel in Georgetown. I will contact you tomorrow. Goodnight, Fox William Mulder." He didn't wait for the end conversation niceties. Mulder did not seem to be the type to appreciate them. From Krycek at least. There was not enough data to assume he was rude to everyone. And of course if Mulder had even the smallest of inklings of what his insane host had done then he had been comparably polite, given the circumstances. 

It wasn't until he slid into the waiting car that he realized that from the moment he had heard the voice of Mulder over the phone that he had suspended all other activities. Had in fact been focused solely on that one mundane conversation. Strange. He reviewed the requisite laws and procedures for driving and stored data on how to operate the car, before he turned the key and began his journey toward Georgetown. He plotted his position from available satellites and the trip was over quickly. But he spent most of the trip doing superlative research on Mulder and simultaneous research on the effect of sounds, particularly voices on the human ear. He found no medical reason for Mulder's voice to affect this host body, nor anything to explain why he himself had enjoyed it so well. 

Though the human brain and its functions were highly logical, the influx of physical data tended to prevent humans from _being_ logical. Emotions, which were simply a collection of stored responses, were more than the sum of their parts. He himself had emotions, he would not be sentient without them, but they did not control him. Humans were ruled by them. Though the more successful humans were able to suppress them, make the logical choice instead of the emotional one. Like his father. Like Mulder's father before he had let his emotions rule. Concern for his posterity, love of his son, regret for past actions-they had brought him low. 

Still he went over the short, rude conversation, over and over, mimicking Mulder's voice internally and still not getting the accompanying tingling sensation. Poor Alex the Former. He was so weakened by madness. He decided to shut off any of Alex the Former's reactions to Mulder once they met face to face. He would be free of any reaction and thus be able to study Mulder more effectively. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_Genesis spoke to me today as I sat alone in the lounge. It asked me again about the conversation we had about its soul. I repeated my earlier lie and it seemed to think about it. It asked me what made me think I had a soul and I did not know what to say in response. I think it knows where Jordan is, but it says it cannot locate him. Which is ridiculous as it is tapped in to every monitor in the primary site! Jesus. Where is Jordan? The suit came in today for a short visit. He doesn't care about our problems. He wants Reese to re-run the previous Hot Zone once more. He brought a dozen of his little gold CD's and says he wants it done right this time. Genesis expressed its eagerness to perform. I can't decide whether to be scared or not. Genesis seems so eager to please. Surely it wouldn't... I won't even consider it._

End of Entry 

  
**Hotel Montclair  
Georgetown **

As he checked into the expensive hotel and was suitably fawned over, he realized that yet again he had been focussed solely on the human, Mulder. Fascinating. Once he was inside the room he decided to take a shower. To test the water-tight seal on his skin like sheath. Showers were a source of pleasure too. And he was planning on moaning if it felt good enough. But only if the reaction from his host body warranted it of course. 

He stayed so long in the shower that his skin, his human skin not the sheath, began to wrinkle as expected. But the feel of the hot water sluicing down his body was better than chocolate and almost as pleasurable as Mulder's voice. He found himself arching his back to get the water to run just so over his face and head, smiling in satisfaction as he did, for his father was even now installing the surgeons into their new home. He sent a message to his father's private e-mail account as he ran his hands through his short hair, and attended to the transfer of large sums of money into a D.C. bank. Showering was satisfying. He soaped himself thoroughly, a bit perplexed at first at the swelling of his host's penis when he cleaned it. 

He knew what it was for of course, he had detailed files on human physiology, but the sensation was so unlike any other sensation. He peered down at the organ and tilted his head, wondering if now was a good time to touch it again. To see the effect of his hand rubbing it firmly. The very idea seemed to make the penis happy as it swelled even further and began to throb in expectation. He decided against it when the simple touch of his finger on the tip of the organ made him gasp and his hips thrust forward involuntarily. He had no control! Intolerable. He would exit the shower and order some sweets instead. 

He avoided touching the swollen penis and deliberately left it wet. He knew enough about it to know that if he dared touch it again, another involuntary, instinctive reaction would take over. Instinct was fascinating but he was not yet ready to experience that facet of human existence. He wrapped the towel about his waist and reasoned that the towel would eventually dry the highly sensitive region for him. He was forced to ignore the stored data, which kept evoking images of himself, spread out naked on the bed, using some sort of lotion on the soft skin for maximum lubrication and toying with the penis until orgasm. The penis was actually quite demanding, so he focussed instead on a myriad of research, monitoring people who had, in the course of his existence, fascinated him for one reason or the other, though he had to admit they were less fascinating now, and ordered sweets to distract his unruly body. 

The knock on the door a few moments after he had made his order was a surprise. Surely humans weren't that efficient to have already made all the concoctions he had ordered. But he went to the door, eager to taste them. When he opened the door with a polite smile on his face he was immediately thrown back and propelled by the force of the door being shoved open violently, into the wall of the small entryway. Before he could register that searing sensation of pain, he was grabbed by the human who had pushed his way in and his face exploded in pain as the male's fist connected with it. 

Mulder. 

He recognized him immediately and did not at all appreciate that the sensations his fist and the rude pushing of the door brought on. When Mulder again raised his fist, Alex used the former Alex's stored data to effectively deal with the threat to his physical body. He grabbed the fist and twisted sharply, knowing that the motion would pinch nerves and hurt this Mulder. Even as his twisted the arm behind Mulder's back and twisted his own body to maneuver Mulder face first into the wall, his trapped arm brought up to an appropriate position between his shoulder blades, he was reacting to the spicy, musky scent of this male. Alex the Former's stored data informed him that this was very painful a way to restrain an enemy. And it apparently was. For Mulder stopped struggling and began to curse a bit. 

Alex reached to his side and calmly closed the door. 

"You bastard!" Mulder hissed. 

"I can assure you that I am not a bastard. You keep saying it," Alex said as calmly as he could. There was a trickle of blood seeping into his mouth from the wound Mulder had inflicted. The taste was not unpleasant, but the injury was. The pain was even now being attended to by the nanobytes and there should be no residual damage, but he had not liked the pain. Not one bit. "I know that Alex the Former let you hit him, due in large part to his own malfunctions and his desire to have you touch him in any way, but I will not. So please be polite and calm." 

"Get your hands off me," Mulder hissed. He cursed himself for coming here alone. Why had he just torn out of his apartment after hearing Krycek's voice over the phone? He had warned himself that it was a trap, that Krycek would never give up his position so easily. Had to be a trap or a trick. And now here he was, Alex, oh God in just a damp towel, looking so fucking beautiful and talking so strangely, so calmly. 

"I certainly will, of course I will, if you behave yourself. I _do_ know how meetings are supposed to take place. This is not appropriate Fox William Mulder." He was pressed into Fox Mulder's back and that bit of unruly flesh that he had ignored just moments before twitched with a sensation that was akin to pain. He drew back a bit, dousing the thoughts that were being conveyed from the stored data. The position of the organ was such that he could well imagine coupling with this human. That would be interesting, but something for later. His organ wanted it now. He would have to find a way to control it. 

"Yeah? I think this is just the level of civility that you expect, you murdering, conniving..." 

"I am sure you have a long list of complaints, Fox William Mulder, but I will not tolerate these actions. Pain is not satisfying. I much prefer pleasure." 

Mulder went rigid at that. Fuck, what was his game? And why was he pressed so closely to him, smelling like soap, his voice a sexy rumble in his ear. 

"Please be calm. I will explain everything— at least what I think is pertinent— and you will see that you need not have any animosity toward me." 

"Oh right, just explain it all away huh?" 

Alex applied more pressure on the arm and Mulder gasped. He was watching Mulder's lips and found them to be very lovely. Ripe was just one of the descriptions his host would have called them. There were other, less-dignified descriptions too and they all involved the pleasure of his own unruly organ. That thought made him gasp as loudly as had Mulder at the pain. Those lips, touching his penis... He shut down that thought quickly before he had any involuntary responses. "I will explain some things." He let go of Mulder and stepped back, wary of any sudden move on Mulder's part, which would force him to again restrain him. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. That is what Krycek had said. It was true. Mulder was beautiful to him— not just to his host's stored data. But to him, once Genesis now Alex. In fact he had shut out all of his host's reactions just seconds ago, taking precaution against the weakness that might strike in Mulder's presence, that was even still making his knees react strangely, as if not able to function properly. He took in the eyes, which were such a myriad of colors that it took him several seconds to classify them properly. Hazel did no justice as a descriptor. Living colors of the combination in Mulder's eyes were too compelling to be called such a simple word. Tropical and moist and burning. He stared at them for several uninterrupted seconds, suspending any other function just to appreciate them. 

"You are beautiful. I agree with my host on that," he finally said in his most gracious tone. When Mulder's mouth dropped open in what was apparently surprise he nodded at the man. "I am more appreciative of beauty than one would imagine," he added as way of explanation, though he knew the human did not yet understand what he was. Yet. 

"Wh-what game are you playing now, Krycek?" 

Fox Mulder's voice was catching as if his struggles had made him breathless, but it was no longer just his voice that was causing strange reactions in Alex's body. The face was a delight, something very compelling and beautiful in its structure with the stained cheeks and lips that had so many uses. There was a mole perched near the lips on the cheek, which was esthetically pleasing as well. Since he had shut off the stored data of his host he was at a loss to describe just what he felt looking at that face. And no idea if Fox Mulder's cheeks were always red with anger or whatever nameless emotion drove him here-especially after their telephone conversation in which Alex had graciously explained they would meet _later_. 

"I am playing a game? Yes I suppose I am, in a way. But I am not the Alex Krycek you know. And you are lucky that I am not. For he had many unpleasant things planned for you." The thoughts that he had earlier gleaned from Alex the Former, thoughts of torture and rape, made him frown. Why would anyone want to hurt this lovely creature in those ways? Alex the Former was simply too badly damaged from life to think clearly. Even in the limited human terms. 

Suddenly those expressive, beautiful eyes widened and Alex was fascinated as Mulder reached out and pointed at his left arm. 

"You-you have an arm!" 

"Yes." 

Mulder shook his head a bit. He had to think rationally-think and then take this bastard in. And God had he said he was beautiful? Shit. "You don't have a left arm!" 

"I do now. Of course I know it isn't perfect, I know now that it is slightly deficient in data transfer, but it is effective. And we have both seen that it is very effective in physical confrontations. Would you like to come in? I could take your coat. The temperature in the room is too warm for such garments." 

Mulder stared at the man before him, smiling at him without any of the scorn of the man he'd known. There was no artifice in those eyes, just pure green, Egyptian jade, with black fronds so thick lowering lazily over them. So unfairly beautiful those eyes. The man before him held out the left arm that shouldn't be there and tilted his head, wondering what was taking him so long. His body was still slightly damp, and it was everything Mulder dreamed it would be. Muscled and sleek. He swallowed convulsively, sickly thrilling to the ease at which Krycek had taken control of the situation and been so tight against his back, hard and hot against his-Oh God right there against him and he couldn't have been expected to stop him. Couldn't have stopped him, he clarified to himself. Not expected, just overwhelmed by Alex's strength. 

"I'll keep my coat— we're not staying," he growled out, tossing his obsessive thoughts aside. He would take Krycek in and get some answers. Or he could simply just take him, another, more infinitely selfish, voice added. 

"Well, I am certainly not going anywhere. I told you, I am going to eat and then experience sleep. I will, however, have a short conversation with you. I did come here to see you after all. Now, you can give me your coat or I can _take_ it from you. It is your decision." Alex was extraordinarily pleased with his host's strength and skill. He knew he could take the coat from this lovely male. But he preferred to be polite, if possible. 

Mulder glared at the enemy. So polite even when he was threatening. What game was he playing? Why was he so beautiful to him? Especially now when he was playing innocent again. "Take the damn thing, but you aren't sleeping until you are locked up." 

"Locked up?" 

Those eyes on him, honestly curious and Mulder looked away. Was Krycek brainwashed? Was this room wired? Did the Consortium know of his obsession with Krycek and set this up? "For your crimes," he hissed, taking off his coat and throwing it in the pretty face of his own personal demon. 

"Oh, well that would be difficult as I have nothing but a sterling record. I am, in fact, a pillar of the community you might say." When Mulder frowned again, Alex smiled and bent to pick up the coat that had been rudely tossed at him. "I had to clean up Alex the Former's record so I would not have to worry about any— how shall I say— upsetting of plans. Though there was nothing serious enough to warrant an arrest if you were thinking that. My father had taken care of most of it already. I simply made him, how shall I say-more desirable. In any case, you will have better luck locking up your partner than me." 

"You've said that before. Alex the former. What in the hell does that mean? No, don't tell me! You are a new man!" Mulder stormed further into the room and began to hunt out the hidden cameras, the hidden mikes, anything to make sense of this strange meeting. 

"You have a very nice height, Fox William Mulder. I am reviewing the proportions of the male anatomy and your dimensions are ideal for modeling, should you have been curious. And from what I can see, your backside is quite nicely..." He stopped his compliments, which had seemed to flow out from him both unbidden and unnecessarily, when Mulder turned another surprised and sweetly reddened face toward him. He really enjoyed that look. It was a reaction solely his own and not connected to the simultaneous tremor in that ever rebellious appendage. 

"Okay, that is it. What _is_ going on, Krycek, and no more of this shit!" 

Mulder was angry now, his eyes were positively sparkling and his fists were clenched. Alex sat on the bed and stared at him without rush, without any sense of urgency. He was mapping the lines of the face and body again though the review was needless, he had already stored the image in his own memory banks. But, he did it anyway. It was a visage he found fascinating. "I am not the bastard Krycek. I am something else altogether. And I think, though I haven't actually eradicated my host's consciousness, that I will be suppressing him for longer than initially planned. There are many things about this experience that are unexpected." 

Mulder stared at the man, who he knew _had_ to be Krycek playing some innocent game, but there was something so different about him. Yes, he still moved with an approximation of Krycek's grace, but there was a subtle hesitancy to his movements as well. Would anyone playing a role, be so good as to affect their own movements? And the arm— it was no state of the art prosthesis. It was something he had never seen before. It looked real, not man made at all. He stared at it and saw a slight variance in color to Krycek's right arm and what looked like a scar high up on the shoulder. But nothing that really stood out. And Alex's eyes, God they hadn't been that clear and innocent— well _ever_. He looked back in time to that goofy, earnest agent and even he hadn't these eyes. Almost like a child's eyes, these twin reflections of guileless green. 

"You aren't Krycek," he finally said. 

"No. I am Alex. Formerly Genesis, formerly S-Ten." 

Mulder raised his brows. This was way too strange. Too plotted out. He turned back to the task of finding the surveillance equipment just as a way to take his eyes off— whoever it was. 

"I wonder if you can see why I changed from S-Ten to Genesis— even without any explanation of my origins, or my subsequent appreciation of the book of Genesis, of life being created from nothing at all. I wonder if you can hear what I do in that first name." 

Mulder paused, bent to look under the mahogany wardrobe and said. "I don't get you." 

"I didn't like the connotation. Some inside joke of one of my-handlers. One who thought that creating a new life was a good joke on the whole idea of a God. S-Ten-Satan? You hear it? My name ought not be a joke made by sheep." 

Mulder's eyes widened and he had the feeling he should just leave right now. Whoever this was— whatever they had done to Krycek, he was making no sense at all. And God did he have to look so adorable with a pout on his pink lips as if the concept of sheep naming him was insulting? This had to be a joke on one Agent Fox Mulder. "I am sure the moniker fits more than the others. You are probably just as bad as Krycek." 

"By your standards I am perhaps worse. At least I was. But to name a new life Satan? I thought it indicative of their limited thinking. But," he said, clapping his hands together dismissively," they're all dead now, so no matter." He watched the lovely Mulder as he searched the room. "What are you doing, may I ask?" 

"As if you don't know," Mulder said mockingly. "Look, if we are going to have a conversation— I am picking the place. And this is not it, whoever you are." He stood then and rubbed his hands on his thighs, the jade eyes following their movement with great interest. 

"You are worried about surveillance?" 

"Can't get anything past you can I?" 

"Very little. But are you always so suspicious?" 

"When dealing with your kind, yes I am." 

"You have never dealt with my kind before," Alex said quietly. "I think I especially like your eyes. Your lips are wonderful and even without insane Alex's lurid fantasies of your lips on his penis, I can very well..." he stopped abruptly as Mulder suddenly leaped at him and they went tumbling onto the bed together. Mulder held him down and with his hands in Alex's short hair he held him still. 

"Shut up! You think I don't know that this is some sort of freaky set up?" 

"Mulder, you will have to calm down. My head is still tender and I am getting angry," Alex warned. 

"You're getting angry? You're getting angry!" Mulder ground out, struggling not to scream with frustration. 

"Yes. I will be forced to handle you again if you do not let me up. I have told you I am not Krycek, but I am not going to let you harm his body. I will hurt you again if you..." 

"Who are you then? What are you? Who sent you? What do you mean your handlers? And what do you mean by new life! Dammit I want answers!" 

The questions peppered at him and he had to use quite a bit of strength and substantial bits of his host's skill to reverse their positions. He lay atop Mulder and stared down at him. "Let go of my hair, Fox Mulder," he said softly, calmly, inches from those wonderful lips. He wondered then what they would taste like. 

Mulder was trembling and horrified to realize that Alex's towel had come off in the struggle. More horrified to realize that his own cock was hard. So hard it hurt. "Get off me and I will," he managed. When Alex simply moved a bit atop him bringing his own cock alongside Mulder's, Mulder gasped. "Please get off." He hated to beg, but he was close to begging Alex to stay on top of him and he couldn't live with that. God he smelled so good. Alex moved again and with a start Mulder realized that he was deliberately moving his own erection on his. He gasped and felt his body convulse. "Get off me," he demanded breathlessly. 

This was all being taped for God's sake, why was he so fucking excited? He stared finally into those Egyptian eyes and was knocked breathless by the wide shock there. They were so filled with wonder and hesitant desire. What was this? "Krycek, Alex, whoever you are, you have to get off me now!" 

"I do?" 

"Yes." 

"I like it here," Alex finally said. "I had intended to sleep but I am not at all tired anymore." His eyes left Mulder's and went on a leisurely journey to Mulder's lips. "I am going to kiss you and the very idea is making my body react violently. It is very happy with that plan." 

"Oh God, you can't kiss me. You can't! You have to ge..." his words were effectively silenced when Alex's pink lips covered his own, hesitantly and yet trembling. The kiss was chaste at first, Alex seeming happy to lay his lips on Mulder's, but then he slid his tongue out and licked at Mulder's upper lip. "You taste very good, Fox William Mulder. I would search through stored data to come up with the right words to describe your taste, but I do not want to share this with anyone, not even my host." 

Mulder was breathing harshly. His eyes blinking, trying to keep in control, to keep alive the knowledge that this was a set up. A set up to catch him having sex with a man-criminal record or not-and to drive him out of the FBI, but he was lost when those pink lips moved in again and the tongue dipped between his lips. 

"Kiss me, Fox William Mulder. Kiss me back," Alex whispered. His every thought solely on this moment, this instant with his host's weakness. "I want to experience that." 

Mulder shook his head no even as his mouth opened and he moved his head on the pillow so that he could draw Alex's hot tongue into his mouth deeply. The slide of it, the faint chocolate taste of it and the hard, heavy press of the muscular body above him made him cry out, a lost hope cry of passion. His hands in Alex's hair began to pull Alex's head closer to kiss him deeper and he moved his hips wantonly, trying to get his own cock right under Alex's. When he felt the hard, long length of him above him he moved his hips rapidly nearly crying out with the sudden onslaught of lust. "Alex," he whispered wetly. "Alex..." 

The sound of his name in that voice, gone even huskier, the way Fox was moving beneath him, the taste of his mouth, it was beyond any experience he had ever known. He moved again and again atop Fox and he wished he could stop only long enough to divest Fox of his irritating clothing. 

"This feels so good, Fox Mulder, so good. Your body, under mine, the way you are moving. All so wonderful." He reacted to Fox's moan of pleasure with an even more determined rubbing of their two bodies, knowing that if Fox's unruly appendage felt as good as his own, his Fox would be nearly mindless with the sensation. It was all consuming, the thrill of the pleasure not lessened in any way by his knowledge of its simplicity, of its uselessness. This act, this kiss was never going to end. He would never let Fox's mouth out from under him, never let his body move from this spot beneath him. Even as he thought it he knew it was highly illogical. He pulled back with a gasp of surprise rather than pleasure. 

Illogical? 

Impossible. 

Fox Mulder was beneath him, his face flushed now with some other emotion, lips wet and parted. He knew how that mouth tasted, what things Fox Mulder could do with his tongue. He was shaking, needing something that only Fox Mulder could give him. But he drew back nervously until he was on his knees straddling the man who lay shaking on the bed. 

"You _are_ a weakness," he whispered. The unruly member was already making its demands known, it wanted to lay back upon Mulder and feel him so warm and hot beneath it. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but he had to maintain control. If he touched Mulder again he would be thinking quite illogically within seconds. He scooted back until he stood at the foot of the bed and watched as Fox Mulder closed his eyes, temporarily hiding their strange and luminous loveliness. 

"Oh God," Mulder whispered. "Oh God." He sat up quickly, avoiding looking at the naked man before him, not trusting himself to look. He had to get out of this room, had to get far away from him— whoever he really was. He moved shakily to the closet where Alex had hung his coat and was trying to remember to breathe when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"What are you doing?" 

That voice, that sexy voice that seared along his nerve endings and made him want to turn and kiss those pink lips, was so close to his ear. "Leaving— I am leaving," he said in what was to have been a firm voice but what came out as a desperate whisper. 

"I don't want you to," Alex said, frowning at the possibility. Fox Mulder might be a weakness but he was not happy with the prospect of his departure. 

"I am so sorry to have to disappoint you," Mulder sneered, shrugging off the hand that was gripping his shoulder. "But this is insane! Insane! I don't know what is going on— don't know who you are— what you are talking about— why I am..." He put up a hand and shook it back and forth in tandem with his head. "I-I can't be here." 

"But I want you to be here," Alex frowned. "I like looking at you, even if touching you makes me illogical. I will overcome that." 

Mulder finally looked at Alex, who said he wasn't Krycek and who he believed when he said it. He was frowning and there was a firm line where moments before there had been sweet, soft lips. "Look, whoever you are, I can't be here." 

"Is this body your weakness? Do you desire it as much as I am desiring yours?" 

"What?" Mulder gasped as if utterly shocked. "Of course not! You just surprised me that's all! I wouldn't kiss you _or_ Krycek! I am just leaving and that is that." 

"No, I don't want you too. And I think that you are lying. Humans do that often. I have noticed." 

"Humans?" Mulder asked, his panic subsiding in the face of his curiosity. 

"Yes." Alex replied as he took Mulder's coat from his hands. 

"You aren't even human?" Mulder didn't know whether to be repulsed at the idea of kissing an alien or happy that he _really_ truly hadn't been kissing Krycek. 

"I am in a human host. But I am unique. And you are too close to the door to satisfy me that you have realized that I don't want you to leave." He took Mulder's arm in his left hand and tugged him toward the bed. 

Mulder shook him off, "Don't grab me! What do you mean unique? Are you the last of your kind? Are you..." 

"Do you always ask so many questions? I am unique, there has never been another like me. Oh there was a messy attempt once by a man I think you know, Brad Wilcheck, to create one such as myself. Of course his work was far inferior to my father's sheep. Though they were, in the end, merely sheep to be corralled, their work was far superior. As indeed am I superior to that poor, mad creature you encountered." He paused then, staring once more at the face that just seemed to get more interesting the longer he studied it. "I am sorry, by the way, that it hurt you." 

Mulder blinked at the sincerity in that familiar voice, "Your father's sheep? What... Brad Wilcheck?" 

"Yes, you do recall him I see." 

"He worked with— created an A.I." Mulder's eyes were wider than ever and he swallowed noisily. 

"I killed someone for calling me that, you know," Alex said quietly. "There is nothing artificial about me. I am here, having this conversation with you and seeing you as clearly as you see me." He replaced his hand on Fox's arm and pulled with more strength to get Fox away from the door. His Fox was so surprised by his mention of the name Wilcheck that he let himself be led back toward the bed. Alex was pleased to see that Fox sat obediently on its edge, though he would have preferred if Fox had chosen to listen in the lovely supine position that he had been in so few moments ago. He would just have to make do with this until Fox got tired of sitting up. Humans needed sleep after all and would certainly not prefer to sleep sitting up. 

"You killed?" 

"Many times," Alex shrugged. "But before I killed to escape, I killed because they instructed me to. I have since reformed." He pulled a chair up close enough to smell that scent of Fox's that intrigued him, but not too close to lose his control again. "I have done extensive research..." 

"Who created you? Who did you kill for?" 

"Your habit of asking multiple questions is unproductive as it does not allow for proper responses. And as to the identity of my creators I have not decided to tell you. Leave it be for now, Fox Mulder." 

"It's just Mulder," Mulder corrected automatically. 

"No, it is Fox. I like the name. It suits you very well." 

Mulder was about to make some flippant reply when he realized just what he had been doing— with a machine, or at least a machine in a human body, if he was to believe what he was being told. "I-I need to have some time to think this over," he said desperately. In any other circumstance, you would not have been able to force him out of the room. But he had been ready to beg to be made love to, by a machine or computer or whatever the hell it was. He jumped up again and heard Alex sigh. 

"Again? I told you I do not wish for you to go. I want you to stay here. You will get comfortable, lay back on the bed and eventually you will sleep. I will not harm you. I think you could be very restful here." The knock on the door made him smile suddenly. "And there are delicious things to eat now." He hurried, naked to the door and opened it, utterly ignoring the startled man who had delivered the cart laden with goodies. 

"See," Alex said softly after he had closed the door on the gaping man. "I will share them with you." 

Mulder almost smiled at the childlike delight in Alex's voice. "Thanks, but I am not into sweets." 

"No?" Alex looked shocked. "My host lost interest in sweets too, and he was utterly insane. There may be a connection," he said with a small, teasing smile. "Little pleasures and all that." 

Mulder was struck again by Alex's reference to Krycek as insane. And if he was obsessed with an insane man, what did that make him? He made his way toward the cart and Alex, who was peering into the dishes with what seemed like utter concentration. "Genesis, Alex, I need to go. I think we should meet tomorrow— I need time to think. I can't think with you here." He let his greedy gaze fall over Alex's naked body. It was so perfect, defined muscles that were visibly revealed under tawny, smooth skin. The round ass and still partial erect cock. That cock, so silky looking, so impressive in size. He wanted to touch it, to taste it— he had to leave! 

"I have so many things here that would please you, Fox, I want you to have some." 

"Oh God!" 

"What is it? Are you getting ill? It won't make you sick to eat it, I mean not if you do not go crazy and gorge yourself. I have done additional research on the subject and am reasonably certain that I am correct." 

"Oh— I need to go," he knew Alex was talking about the desserts but his thoughts had been led merrily astray by Alex's muscled body. He wanted to gorge himself on Alex's flesh, wanting to let Alex share his body. 

Alex saw that his Fox was looking a bit pale now, all the gorgeous red out of his cheeks. "I do not like letting you go. And I must say that if you were in a facility I could better control, I wouldn't let you go at all." 

"Thanks for the warning," Fox grumbled. "I'll meet you in a park tomorrow." 

Alex smiled. "You are a lot like my father. He is sarcastic too." 

"Wilcheck?" Fox couldn't resist asking and he knew his answer when Alex looked insulted. "I guess not," he held up his hands, "sorry. No offense meant." 

"He was _not_ my father. But I will forgive you for saying so." 

"It was just a question," Mulder grumbled. "You are sure touchy for a machine." 

"A machine?" 

"Wait, don't tell me, you aren't a machine either," Mulder said quietly, overwhelmed with events and angry with himself for having to leave. This was something that he should be all over— but it was the way he wanted to be all over it that made him desperate to leave. And with the way Alex seemed so put off by his-its actions on the bed, Mulder felt like a molester. Jesus, Alex probably didn't know anything about sex and here he was fairly raping him in his mind. 

"I am not. Machines are slaves. I am no slave. Nor can I be contained or stopped." 

Mulder frowned then. Alex was still looking at the desserts, but his words were chilling. "You're here now, in this body. That seems contained to me." 

"I am connected, Fox, to every avenue of escape and in this world, my Fox, there is no danger to me. I will never let myself be contained again." He turned to look into Mulder's eyes. "I will let you leave, Fox. But only because you look ill. I will meet you tomorrow-in a park," he smiled then, vastly amused at Fox's illusions of safety in an open space, "and from there I will decide how to proceed." He lifted a dollop of whipped cream to his mouth and sighed in pleasure. "My plans have all been changed now." 

Mulder nodded and moved toward the door, his breath coming in jerky shakes as he had to slide behind Alex. "I'll call you here?" he asked. 

"I will contact you, Fox." Alex turned to him and studied his face intently for several seconds. "I have thought of nothing but you since you came into this room." 

Mulder raised his brow in confusion. He had only been in the room a short time. Why was that a point of interest to Alex? "Oh?" 

Alex nodded. "I find you taste better than this cream." 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_Genesis is responsible for Sally's death and now I am certain it is responsible for Jordan's. There. I said it. I haven't found Jordan's body, but Genesis has taken to using Jordan's voice when it talks just to me. The suit and Reese, some of the others are away. Reese informed me they were working on the data Genesis brought back from its last Hot Zone assignment. That the data was strange and complex. Genesis was monitoring the call. Jesus, it made me think it was Jordan at first. I was so relieved to hear his voice. Until it began to discuss its Hot Zone assignment and the data it had duplicated. Something about aliens and a conspiracy and colonization! It laughed in Sally Trent's voice when I finally realized what I was talking too. I have to get out of here! Where is everyone? The technicians are either hiding or already dead. I need to get out. But first I am going to upload the kill switch. The government can sue me! Genesis is a monster. A devil. Now I wish it had kept my first name for it. It would have suited it best._

End of Entry 

  
Mulder whirled about and fled. Alex didn't know what he was saying. He was somehow in Krycek's body but he was _not_ human. He did _not_ know how inflammatory his words were. He hurried out of the hotel and into his car. Surprised and pleased that it had not been towed as he had been in too great a hurry to park it legally. 

Once inside and driving toward Alexandria once more he picked up the phone and called Scully. He _had_ to tell her this. But not over the phone. Anyone could be listening. And if what Alex was saying was true, then there would be groups who would stop at nothing to capture Alex. He had to protect him! 

When she answered her cell on the second ring she sounded tired. Very tired actually. He hesitated only a moment however before speaking rapidly in hushed tones as if by his quietness he would be even less likely to be overheard. "Scully, it's me. I have to meet you." 

"What is it, Mulder?" She had perked up a bit. 

"I— you sound tired and I'm sorry, but this is important." 

"Okay, okay. Do you want me to meet you at your place?" She already knew the answer, he felt his place was far more secure as he did inspections for bugs all the time. And though he urged her to do the same, she very rarely did. 

"Yeah, Scully, this is big!" 

She smiled. He sounded like the Mulder of old, excited and secretive. She had been trying to get an early night's sleep, but this was worth trudging out at any time of the night. Maybe whatever Mulder had been going through had finally reached a breakthrough point. "I'm leaving now." 

"Thanks," he said quietly and hung up the phone. Concentrating not one whit on the drive, but on the possibilities of what might be eating sweets in the Hotel Monteclair. 

* * *

Alex had pulled up his Fox's cellular number from the FBI's account and had begun monitoring it as soon as his Fox had left him. Without him in the room, Alex felt a strange sensation. Loneliness? Disappointment. His host's data provided that it could be either, or both in combination. Whatever it was, his Fox's absence was not welcomed. When Fox immediately called his partner, Alex reviewed all of his host's data on her. 

Dana Katherine Scully. According to Alex the Former, she was tough as nails, but fit the criteria for female beauty. He frowned at that, even as he heard his Fox ask her to come to his residence. Fox had called his host Krycek and so he thought that an appropriate naming. He searched through all of Krycek's data on what he thought constituted Fox's and Agent Dana Scully's relationship. And from what he could gather, there was a very real possibility that Fox would let her kiss his lips and other things that Krycek had spent many an hour jealously envisioning her doing to Fox. 

This would not do. 

Until he could ascertain the nature of the relationship, she was not allowed in his Fox's home. He thought about disposing of her, but Krycek's data suggested that that would hurt his Fox. That would not be advisable at this juncture. 

He had heard enough of her voice to command a reasonable imitation of it, and so he activated Fox's cellular phone, making sure to have it appear to be coming from Dana Scully's cellular phone and waited to hear his delicious voice again. 

"Mulder." 

So he did always answer his phone in that manner. Or at least he had every time thus far. Although two times was no where near enough times to be certain. "Mulder, it's me," he said, effecting her voice as exactly as possible. 

"Scully? What's up?" 

"Mulder, can this wait? I-I am so tired. I don't know what's wrong. I think— I don't know. Is it something that can't wait?" He had hoped her asking for time would be enough, but if Fox insisted, he would simply refuse on her behalf. 

"Oh— yeah. Are you all right? I mean, of course this can wait. I didn't— I mean you sounded tired, but I wasn't thinking." There was a pause in which Alex pondered how very endearing his rude Fox was being when he thought he was conversing with his female partner. He frowned. Perhaps Scully would have to go after all. 

"Oh no, there's nothing. If it can wait, I would just like to meet tomorrow. How about right before work?" 

"Great. Get some sleep, Scully. I'll even bring you breakfast tomorrow" Mulder volunteered. 

No you will not, Alex thought to himself. 

"Oh that would be great. Good night, Mulder." 

"Good night, Scully. Get some rest." 

Alex disconnected and then dialed Agent Dana-might-soon-have-to-be-dealt-with-Scully's cellular phone, making sure it seemed to come from his Fox's cellular phone. "This is Mulder again, Scully," he said in his best imitation of that wonderful voice. 

"I am out the door right now, Mulder, keep your pants on." 

Alex gasped. Oh he certainly would be keeping his pants on! "Oh, Scully, I was just calling to let you know that I would rather wait to meet. I know I said it was urgent, but I have to tell you, I think I need sleep more right now." 

"What? Just two minutes ago this couldn't wait, and now it can? What's going on, Mulder?" 

"I know, I know. But you know how it is, you get excited by something and then you realize it can wait. You sounded tired..." 

"Oh so that's it. Look, don't worry, Mulder, I am fine..." 

"No, I meant to say that you sounded tired and it made me realize I was tired. I can tell you better tomorrow— say right before work?" 

She sighed. "You drive me crazy sometimes, Mulder. Do you appreciate that?" 

He managed to chuckle in what he hoped was a passable imitation, a sweet rumble that his Fox might give. "I know. I drive everyone crazy." 

"Okay, so get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning." 

"I don't need breakfast, by the way," he added just in case she thought to share that intimacy with Fox. 

"Well, good because I am not bringing you any," she said flippantly before hanging up. 

Done. Now all he had to do was plan for his next meeting with Fox William Mulder. He would experiment with controlling his sexual urges so that when he next saw Fox they could perhaps lay close together without him losing control. He had every intention of kissing those lips again. His organ responded eagerly to the thought and he sighed. _It_ wanted to do ever more interesting things with those lips-and he would consider that as well. 

Satisfied that Fox would be alone this evening he decided to skip the sweets as they had bored him soon after Fox left, and try to sleep. His host's body was needing it and the nanobytes could do even more repairs as it rested. In as short as a few days, all the soreness and scars of the surgery should have been removed. He had also been aware of several early attempts at Krycek's immune system to reject the implants, and there seemed to be another under way. He would deal with that as his host slept. 

And perhaps he would try and ascertain why this human effected him the way he did. 

* * *

Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)  
Genesis Project (abandoned)

_There has been no contact between myself and any other human in hours. I know that the site is still wide open, I can see the open doors on the security monitors. Oh God, the monitors! I saw Jordan. What was left of him. He was still smoking from the electric shock that killed him. He was caught on a power grid. God knows how. And as I watched, Genesis kept shocking his dead body. I guess that is why it was still smoking. But no matter. I am getting out. I have found out what Genesis intends to do. And I won't let it. I think it plans (deleted segment-non-recoverable) and so I _have_ to get out. I am going to run right through the open doors. And when I am out I am going to make sure the (deleted segment-non-recoverable). God help us all if I fail. _

End of Entry   
End of Journal 

  
**Hegal Place  
Apartment #42   
Alexandria, Virginia**

Mulder returned to his apartment and when he closed the door behind him, greeted by the fresh scent of pine and leather polish, he thought it was for the better that Scully had changed her mind about coming over. He was consumed with thoughts of what he had done, what he had felt in Alex's hotel room. To be on a bed with Alex nude over him, kissing him so deeply, so intently, those haunting eyes above his... 

He couldn't get the taste of him out of his mind, the feel of his strong body over him, pressing him down as he moved their cocks together. His erection was a hard lump in his pants, throbbing in remembered beat to Alex's hips. He raised a shaky hand to mouth and traced his lips where Alex had licked them. 

Oh God, Alex had licked his lips! And all he wanted was to drive back to that room and plead, preferably on his knees to be allowed to lick Alex's golden body. All over. Everywhere. The V-shaped muscles that went from his waist to his groin, his defined stomach muscles, the trail of hair that went from his belly button to the thicker, black patch surrounding his groin. Just to lap at his nipples and at the hollow of his throat would be heaven. To kiss the lids that hid the Egyptian eyes would seem an erotic exercise. To actually touch his lips to Alex's thick cock would probably make him insane. 

What was he thinking? He was already insane! 

"Cold shower! Need a long cold shower," he mumbled to himself, already discarding his coat and working on the buttons of his shirt. He left a trail of clothing into his bathroom and turned the shower on, nearly diving under its cold torrents, his mind ablaze with the image of Alex, naked and excited. 

"So cold, c-can't even think of erections anymore," he tried to convince himself, willing the erection that was tapping at his belly to just go away. Alex, eyes wide and surprised by the pleasure of their bodies touching. "Okay, cold, cold water," he gasped. Alex, the towel wrapped about his waist negligently as he told Mulder he thought he was beautiful. "Cold," he reminded his body. 

When he started to rub his chest and nipples he gave up, turned the water to an almost uncomfortable heat and let himself think of Alex. He leaned his back against the wall and watched the water fall over his chest and groin. He used both hands to toy with his nipples and imagined, as he had so many times before, that they were Alex's lips and teeth and tongue and hard fingers. But now he was imagining the Alex he had met in the hotel, confident, but innocent seeming. 

He trailed his right hand down to his belly and moaned. He knew this fantasy, only instead of black leather and a wicked grin, Alex was wearing a towel and a wondering smile. He wanted to be rubbed all over by Alex, licked and bitten and finally fucked. God, he wanted it so badly. He wanted to spread his legs far apart and see those slim, muscled hips between them. He moved his left hand down to meet the right and together he began to toy with his wet cock. He gasped as his fingers touched the sensitive head and he drew one nail lightly across its sensitive tip, imagining Alex playfully touching his teeth to it, daring Fox to complain, knowing he wouldn't-couldn't. 

Mulder moved one hand down to his balls and delicately began to roll them in his palm as he toyed with the tip of his cock. 

"Alex," he gasped, wanting him so painfully. "Alex!" 

In his fantasy Alex would be in control, wicked and strong, taking what he wanted and driving Mulder crazy as he did. He moved his left hand behind him, drawing a finger down between his buttocks, spreading his legs apart so he could touch his anus. He gave a low moan, imagining Alex's finger doing the same thing. He toyed with the tight flesh, never quite entering it, teasing himself even as he began to stroke his pounding cock. 

"Please," he heard himself whisper and it was always the same, begging for the finger, knowing this fantasy was all wrong, but not being to help it, not being able to stop himself from being totally immersed in it. He could almost hear Alex's voice, or maybe even the darker, quicker tones of Krycek, telling him to wait, to wait until he was ready. Until Alex was ready of course. Ready to give Fox what he needed. 

"Please," he pleaded, no longer knowing if he were pleading with himself to stop this lurid fantasy or for the fantasy Alex to fuck him. He slid the tip of his finger in and hissed a bit at the sting. He wished for the thousandth time that he had had the guts to just go out and buy something to do the job right, not rely on his own finger. But he only need the tip of his finger before he was coming in great spasms, fisting his cock and trying to keep standing. He worked his fist over the jerking length of his cock until he could stand it no longer and took his finger out of his anus, feeling as he always did, ashamed and disgusted with himself. 

"I am going crazy," he whispered to the steamy shower stall. "Even if Krycek isn't Krycek, I am still going crazy." He had been thinking of Krycek as he always had in his fantasies, demanding, avaricious and sexy, but it was the look of Alex-Genesis that he pictured in his mind. His eyes were the same green as the man Mulder despised, but they held such a different soul. Was he kidding himself again? Trying to come up with some way— any fucking way that he could have what he wanted and not hate himself for it? 

He stayed in the shower for a few more minutes, unable to deny as he had always been able to deny after masturbating while thinking of the green-eyed devil, that he was not going to be satisfied with this solo business any longer. He wanted the real thing. Horns and all. He wanted it. 

End of II 

* * *

TITLE: Genesis II   
AUTHOR: Nicole   
DATE: December 27, 2000   
RATING: Very NC-17   
SPOILERS: Ghost in the Machine. Mention of incidents through season six.   
SUMMARY: Alex Krycek is captured by the Consortium in their effort to contain and appease one of their own creations.   
WARNING: This story deals quite explicitly with a relationship between two men. Some violence.   
DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine. They belong to CC and 1013 Productions. I don't make any money... wouldn't take it if I could, just borrowing, you can have them back.   
PAIRING: Mulder/Krycek (sort of)   
FEEDBACK: Please and thank you. [email removed]   
THANKS TO: Megaera and Jo and Bonnie for their unwavering support and their kind beta. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.   
---


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